How the Prince Met the Girl, How He Lost Her,
by Oh Dee
Summary: COMPLETE. Prince Shikamaru has no intention of getting married or taking over the throne, but when certain circumstances give him no choice, he decides to make a plan that will have his future wife running for the hills.
1. In Which the Prince Finds Out

**AN**: Let me begin by saying that it feels wonderful to be back. Now, let me continue by saying that I've had this story idea rattling around in my brain (and on my Word processor) for a little less than a year. However, I never felt any need or want to upload this up on ffnet, and after coming to college five months ago, had even less of an inclination to upload this or even write. But I went back to this story a few days ago and remembered just how much I loved it and went on editing and revising it. And so this is what I have.

This will be yet another chapter fic. How long it will be, I have no clue. I'm writing this as I get inspiration, which, I admit, has been very stingy with me lately since coming to California. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it and read and review.

Warning: Updating will be far and few between. Yes, this will take a long time. I'm even uploading this during finals. So enjoy, and I hope to reading your reviews!

* * *

**Chapter I**  
_In Which the Prince Finds Out About His Future Wife_

If there was one thing Shikamaru hated about living in an enchanted world full of unicorns, magic, and the strange creature known as the Aho Crow, it was that the weather was always the _exact_ opposite of what he was feeling. For example, today was the worst day of his entire twenty years of living, and the sun was blazing and the sky was clear and the birds were singing and the Aho Crow was nowhere to be seen.

Shikamaru hated his life.

Actually, he hated his father. For choosing such an inopportune moment to decide he was dying.

Count on his father to start dying _now_, when his mother was bent on getting him married and onto the throne. Now that his father was on his deathbed, it was only natural he choose a wife and get that damn crown on his head.

Well, alright, he was being a bit unreasonable, and if there was anything Shikamaru _wasn't_, and trust him, there were a lot of things he wasn't, it was being unreasonable. It wasn't really his father's fault, but he could still blame him for the mess he was in now.

It had started earlier that morning. Early for him, that is. It had been only a few minutes before noon when a servant came in to inform him he'd been summoned to the great bedchamber by the King, and that if he didn't get there soon, the Queen would arrive herself to take him there. And it would most definitely _not_ be pretty.

That meant his mother would storm into his room and drag him out by the ears. Which meant his ears would never feel the same again. Which meant he had to get up and go to see the King, whether he really wanted to or not.

So he did. And when he got there, he was greeted with a sight he would have rather not seen.

His father. In bed. Not naked, which he would probably have preferred over the image he did see, but that wasn't the point. His father lay in bed, his face sickly pale beneath the darkness of his olive skin. His eyes were barely open, his beard scraggly and anything but the well-kept beard the King usually wore. It was a frightening sight, seeing the King, who just yesterday stood tall and whined about how his wife made him do unnecessary, troublesome things.

"Pops?"

His mother, the Queen, stood only a few feet away from the bed, tired and distressed. Her head jerked up at the sound of Shikamaru's voice. "Don't call the King that!"

Shikamaru shrugged halfheartedly and took a step towards his father, scared to do much of anything. "Pops?" he asked again, his voice cracking.

His father turned slowly to look at him through half-lidded eyes. "Ah, Shikamaru. I thought I heard your mother's angry voice."

His mother scowled. "For a dying man, you sure know how to anger your wife."

He chuckled, a weak, brittle laugh that wracked his chest and made Shikamaru's hairs stand on end. "I'm glad you came on time."

"…Dad…"

"I have a simple request, boy. You see how I am. Will you do as I ask?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No." That was his mother. Of course.

His father coughed into the comforter held up to his face. "I am dying. I don't know how this happened, but I awoke this way and I'm not one to argue with fate."

"Or anything," his mother muttered darkly.

"Like your mother said, I don't like arguing with much of anything. But I request one simple thing from you, boy. Please… get married. Take over the throne. Before I die. I want to see you married and in your proper place before it is time for me to go… Please… son."

Shikamaru was sure that those were the most words his father had ever spoken to him at one time. And he was absolutely terrified.

His father was just like him—only spoke when necessary, and when he had to speak, used the fewest amount of words to say what he had to say. Why waste breath you could possibly need for something else? In fact, why make such an effort when it was far from needed?

So the very fact his father had gone to the lengths of saying what he had said in the amount of time and breaths he took, Shikamaru knew this was very serious business indeed. His father _was_ serious. His father _was_ dying. The life he knew _was_ going to change.

"Pops—"

His father gave a wheezing cough, one that made Shikamaru's insides churn with disgust and fright. He knew he had only one thing he could possibly do.

"Okay, Dad. I will."

And so it began.

* * *

He sat in his room for most of the day. He couldn't face the outside world. He couldn't bear to see his mother pace the outside of her bedchamber, her eyes swollen with tears he had not seen her shed. He couldn't bear to see the servants run around, confused, shocked, and waiting for the inevitable to happen. He couldn't bear to watch the world he knew suddenly change right before his eyes.

It wasn't that he was scared. Okay, so it was. But he couldn't admit that. Now that he had finally agreed to his mother's long standing wish and his father's dying request, there was no way he could possibly go out to face the world frightened of the future.

He couldn't believe it. He was a man of principle—things he could see, he accepted. He was not one to argue with the factual, with the known. But this? This was unbelievable. Things like this didn't happen. They were things he heard about from servants, things he overheard through the vine, things Ino—his best friend for years he would rather forget—told him. But things like this didn't arrive at his front door.

He was just about ready to end his own life, because he knew whoever his future wife was would end up doing it anyway, when his door opened and in walked Ino, a very happy Chouji by her arm.

"I _heard_!" Ino exclaimed, slipping her arm out skillfully as she glided towards him, brilliant smile plastered on her beautiful fair face. "Shikamaru Nara is getting married!"

"Not by choice," Shikamaru reminded her, staring at her through his eyelashes. Moodily, like a proper whiner.

Chouji took a seat beside him on his large bed, the mattress shifting to accommodate the extra weight. "Well, Shika, it's about time you settled down. You're the future king."

"So I need a woman by my side?" he asked darkly.

Ino nodded vigorously. "Obviously."

Chouji patted his arm, always the mediator. "Shika, you have to see this logically. You're going to be the king. Your kingdom needs to see that you're mature. Sure, you can go out and battle wild boars and kill snakes, but that can only show so much of your bravery."

"And he's too lazy to even do that," Ino mumbled.

Chouji continued, "See, Shika. You need to prove to your people that you are ready to take up the throne. And people need a lot of convincing. You can promise them things and give them speeches, but they need to be reassured. You're a twenty year old boy. To anyone with a brain, you're not the wisest choice, regardless of your parentage. You have to show them, by marrying and by taking charge, that you are ready for the role."

"That is the stupidest reason for marriage I have ever heard," Shikamaru said, his distaste with the entire situation laced in his words. "I'd rather just not take over at all."

Ino's hand made a loud noise as it connected with the back of his head. "Don't you say that! You are our future! If people heard this—"

Shikamaru nodded lazily. "I get it, I get it. But this is a lot of pressure on me. I just don't want to marry some foreign stranger. Knowing my luck, she'd be blonde and loud. Like you."

"I like blondes…" Chouji whispered, trailing off.

Ino rolled her eyes. "Shika, you have to be sure. You're risking quite a bit when you say things like that. Are you ready to accept the responsibility of having to reassure an entire kingdom that you're ready for the job without using the easiest way to do so?"

Shikamaru paused. Ino was right; this was something serious. He had to be sure that it was all worth it. Not marrying this girl, upsetting his mother, going against his father's wish. Was he ready to face the repercussions? Was _not_ marrying some girl worth it?

"Yes."

Ino nodded, a dark smile lifting her perfect lips. "Then we start the moment she arrives."


	2. In Which the Princess is Informed

**AN**: Hello everyone! Thank you for the lovely reviews and the patience you've all had in waiting for this chapter. Just to warn everyone: this fic is supposed to be set in a medieval kind of place where woman are, you know, not given a crap about. Also, just so you all are aware, while this is set in a world unlike our own in a time unlike our own, Temari and everyone else is fairly modern. I'm not trying to remain true to the past with proper language. So yeah. No reviews going all, "Omg like, people didn't say half the words you included." I know. I am well aware of the fact. Everyone is modern in thinking and speech in a fairly un-modern world.

Enjoy! And have a merry Christmas, happy hannukkah, happy kwanzaa, happy festivus, and a wonderful New Year.

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**Chapter II**  
_In Which the Princess is Informed of her Groom-to-Be_

The Kingdom of Suna was famous for its desert heat, its exotic silks, and its relentless winds. It was also famous for having the most temperamental and explosive royal family of any kingdom in the entire world.

"You have lost your mind," Temari declared, her blue-green eyes narrowed dangerously.

Her father simply waved his hand in the air, dismissing her claim entirely. "Regardless of whether my mind is lost or not, you _will_ do as I say, and you _will_ marry this boy."

"Over my dead body!" A strange wind rustled the long, family-crested curtains that hung behind the throne. Some of the servants that were nervously cleaning around the room and acting like they couldn't hear a thing stood paralyzed as the wind ruffled their hair.

"That, Temari, can be easily arranged. But as I see your death will accomplish nothing, your life will be of much better use if you remain alive."

"I won't do it." She declared it with so much certainty that, to any onlookers, it would seem that she would get her way.

"But you will."

Temari growled, the fire in her eyes intensifying. "No. I refuse! This is absolutely out of the question!"

"You, Temari, are simply a woman. You have no opinion and you have no power. You are my first born, much to my regret, and because of your responsibility as princess, you will do what is required of you for your kingdom. You will _not_ become queen of Suna. You will _not_ hold any power here. But I am allowing you a freedom with this marriage. And because you will do as I say, because you are princess and because you are part of this kingdom, you will marry the future king of Konoha and you will do it without complaint."

The small monologue temporarily paralyzed her. For starters, her father rarely exchanged a word to her, let alone a complete sentence. And then, much to her own horror, her father was right, as much as she hated to admit it. She was the first born, yes, and incredibly intelligent and talented at things men often were supposed to be, but she remained female in every way of the word with absolutely no hold on any kind of power. Her only bet on being able to do anything was to do what he requested and marry into someone else's family and hope that they cared for her like they would a pet, at the very least.

What a way to live as a woman.

She gritted her teeth angrily, glaring down at the man she hated with every fiber of her being. "I don't care what you do to me, I will not marry him!"

Her father's eyes flashed with a fire she knew was deadly. "So be it."

* * *

And that was how Temari found herself in the dungeons.

Granted, her father, or most probably her servants, had been nice enough to provide some silk cushions and oriental rugs and a blanket made of the finest wool for her comfort, but she was still in the dungeons. Where there were rats. And while she was far from the damsel in distress and she didn't really mind the outdoors or getting down and dirty, or even dungeons, she would have preferred the opportunity to change iout/i of her favorite gown (the least frilly and girly) and into something more appropriate for dungeon wear. Like her wedding dress. So it could be utterly ruined. Forever.

She punched the stone wall out of frustration and didn't even wince as it scraped the skin off her knuckles.

This was just her luck. Count on her to be used as the bait for a treaty. Her brother Kankurou was more than willing to marry anyone, as long as the girl was good looking and wouldn't mind being used like a sex slave. Even Gaara seemed to be more open to marriage, though she couldn't really tell because whenever he was approached by the subject, he would only stare and stare, and that kind of response was usually a no or a yes.

So this was fabulous. Great. Wonderful. It wasn't like she had a life plan already or anything (she did). It wasn't like her opinion mattered (it really didn't). It wasn't like she was human or something (she was…mostly).

"Princess…"

She snapped her head towards the voice, narrowing her eyes to try to focus her eyes on the shadowy figure on the other side of the dungeon bars. "What?"

"Your father implores you concede to his request."

Temari snorted. "Did he really?"

The servant hesitated for a long moment before sighing in defeat. "No, but he did request you obey his order before he decides to send you off in the morning."

The blonde scowled. So the man had decided to send her off anyway, regardless of how she felt. What a wonderful father. "So I absolutely have no choice."

"None whatsoever, Princess. Please, do not spend your last night in this castle on the dirty, dungeon floors."

She rolled her eyes and sat back against the stone walls, crossing her arms around her chest. "I don't care. I shall remain here all night if I must. And when it gets late and the guards are asleep, I'll scream and make noise so that when they come up to check on me, I'll deck them in their faces."

"That is not becoming of a Princess." The servant bowed before disappearing from the dark.

"Yeah well, this is me not caring!"

And so Temari ripped off her dress.

And remained in her undergarments.

And was cold for the rest of the night.

Damn her luck.

* * *

The King of Suna was renowned for being an asshole.

Especially to his children.

The next morning, Temari was shaken awake by a leering guard before being dragged out of the dungeons and into a carriage without even being given the chance to shower or, you know, wear something. She was thrown into a carriage the moment the sun was up, and before long, she was on her way to the country of her future husband.

The journey was not pleasant. In fact, it was long, and dry, and hot and then freezing cold, and she was still not wearing a damn thing with only her caretaker, Baki-san, sitting awkwardly across from her.

"You know, I'm not going to marry him."

Baki-san shook his head. "You're only making this more difficult for yourself."

"I still won't do it. My life will not be governed by some man."

"Temari, you are a woman. There is no such thing as a woman living a life of freedom."

To prove her point, she removed her blanket—the only thing keeping her undergarments from view—and beared her teeth. "There. I am a free woman, and no one will tell me to have some shame and cover myself."

"I will. Princess Temari, you are the worst example of a woman I have ever met, now will you please put your blanket on?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Baki-san barked a laugh. "Hardly. I am not exactly a man interested in women."

And so Temari decided that if she could not escape her fate before meeting her betrothed, then she would make an escape when she _did_ meet him. She would formulate a plan—a plan so sneaky, a plan so wild, that her future husband will be so terrified and so unwilling to marry her that he would run away without looking back.

"I don't like that grin on your face," Baki-san noted, watching her wearily with dark eyes. "I am sure your future husband will be horrified with whatever you're planning."

Temari's smile widened as she sat back and relaxed. "Good. I'm counting on it."

That was when the carriage jolted to a stop.

The door on Temari's side was pulled wide open, a dark haired, smiling servant standing on the other side, wearing bright colors Temari was unused to seeing in the form of clothing.

"Welcome to Konoha, Princess Temari! I am Lee, the Youthful Green Beast of Konoha!" He kept smiling, seemingly unbothered by her lack of dress. "You are to be presented to the King and Queen, as well as their son, your future husband."

"Now?" she exclaimed.

"Now?" Baki-san also asked.

Lee nodded youthfully ecstatic. "Yes!"

Temari barely had time to register what the bushy-eyebrowed guy was saying, let alone grab her blanket, when she was hauled out of her carriage and marched through the giant, beautiful palace, up a grand, white staircase, down long hallways with lush carpets, and finally pushed into the a large, circular room with a crystal chandelier that seemed larger than the one in her own home.

It was only at the sound of someone clearing their throat that Temari bothered registering her other surroundings. Like the three figures seated before her, wearing clothing she could have easily beat with her own. Except, she was still not wearing any.

"So you're the princess Temari."

It was spoken by the woman, the Queen, much to Temari's surprise. Granted, the King looked terribly small, frail and weak in his too-big clothing with his pale face and clouded eyes.

"Unfortunately," she responded.

The boy sitting to the right grimaced. She focused her attention on him, on his tall ponytail and his angular face, and the way he seemed almost feminine, except in the set of his jaw. He met her eyes with his own dark, slanted eyes, and stared openly at her before smiling smugly.

"Do you opt to go out in public without clothes often?" he asked, and she was shocked by the sound of his voice—so low, so masculine.

Until she registered his words.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind once we're married."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

His mother seemed absolutely appalled. "I am sorry to inform you, young lady, but as long as you live in this house, you will be wearing proper clothes."

Temari let a smile tug at the corner of her lips. "Your son, I'm sure, wouldn't mind if I decided not to wear clothes."

The Queen opened her mouth but was quickly interrupted by her son.

"Actually, I would prefer if you wore clothes. I mean… I'm not a fan of muffin-tops."

Temari's smile instantly slipped as she looked down and eyed her stomach, only to find it completely flat.

She growled.

That little bastard! He was playing tricks on her!

He was already playing his own game on how to get rid of her.

It wouldn't work. If there was going to be any getting rid of, it would be on her part.

"Shikamaru! What did I tell you about speaking?" his mother screamed.

The boy, Shikamaru, shrugged and let his eyes concentrate on the ceiling.

"Boy, don't say that," came the quiet reprimand from his father. "Your future wife has one heck of a body, from what I can see."

Shikamaru's dark eyes stared at her sharply, and she felt oddly out of place beneath his scrutiny. She grinded her teeth and crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently as he obviously observed her.

"She's okay. I don't really see the big deal about girls and bodies and stuff. Besides, you're not really in the position to talk about seeing, Pops."

"Have you been with a girl, boy?"

The Queen elbowed her husband, causing him to cough. "Don't ask that in front of his wife!"

"I'm not married to that thing yet," Temari remarked, distaste laced in her words like venom.

"No way have I been with a girl," he answered his father, before turning his gaze back onto the blonde. "And trust me, the feeling is mutual."

"Why you little—"

"Shikamaru! Stop behaving like a brat! I spent forty-two hours in labor for you!"

"Honey, don't get agitated…"

"You're the one who makes him all lazy!"

"Mom, Pops is dying, give him a break."

"Don't talk to me—"

"You'll get an aneurism if you—"

"Yeah, yeah, Mom, alright—"

Temari's eyes seemed ready to pop out of her sockets as they went back and forth from person to person as the onslaught of words kept spilling out. At one point, the Queen flung a dainty shoe aimed at Shikamaru's head, which he easily dodged, causing a slew of threats on his mother's part, with the King looking on amused and obviously sick.

There was only one thing to do.

So Temari fainted.

* * *

It took a few minutes, and the King to say, "I think she fainted…" before the fighting ceased and everyone realized the future Queen of Konoha was currently lying flat on the floor.

"Seems she needs some rest," the Queen observed, though she sounded far from concerned. "Take her to her room, Shikamaru."

"Yeah, yea—wait, what?"

"You heard your mother."

"I'm not touching her."

"She's not a bug," his mother retorted.

"You don't know that," he said, eyeing the sprawled body on the floor with narrowed eyes.

"Shikamaru." It was a warning. For sure death.

"Fine. Sure. Send your only son into uncharted territory. What if she wakes up and thinks I'm taking inappropriate advantage of her?"

"Just explain yourself," his mother retorted.

Shikamaru grumbled as he stood slowly, walking down from his chair, all the while glaring at the crumpled body he knew perfectly well was not unconscious. "Knowing my luck, she'll try taking advantage of me."

He kneeled, poking the body with a finger and groaning when there was no response on Temari's part. He'd done enough research in the week since he'd discovered he was marrying her to know she was a temperamental, incredibly wily and intelligent female and Princess, with looks that, according to many of the males that he'd talked to around the castle and in town, could make any man come to his knees. He didn't know whether he agreed with the statement quite yet, but from the looks of her body (and her undergarments were the thinnest he'd ever seen, even in some of the questionable magazines he found in his father's private study) she was the kind of woman he liked.

He poked again, just for good measure, and when there was still no response, hoisted the woman onto his shoulders and began walking.

Once they were clear of the meeting room, Temari lifted her head, whispering near his ears, "And just for the record, I would _never_ take advantage of you."

She winced as she hit the floor, Shikamaru having dropped her. "Good. I guess you can make it to your room from here."

He blinked a second later as her fist came in contact with his cheek. "Good. I guess you can say you got that from falling down the stairs while carrying me."

They glared at each other. When servants were later interviewed about the scene, many would claim that if looks could kill, the two would have been lying in a pool of their own blood with their heads on pikes.

"Let it be known that I will never marry you," Temari hissed dangerously.

"As I will never marry you," Shikamaru declared in return, his own eyes darkened with intense dislike.

The two remained like that for twelve seconds before they harrumphed and turned on their heels.

Their battle had begun.


	3. In Which the Prince Begins the Attack

AN: I apologize for the very late chapter. It's been quite a few months, huh? This chapter was sitting on my word processor for a good four months. I'm only kind of satisfied with it right now. I'll probably hate it in a few hours.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter III  
**_In Which the Prince Begins the Attack_

"Kill her with kindness," Ino declared confidently, swinging her long legs as she perched on the edge of Shikamaru's mahogany desk.

"Kindness?" Chouji repeated. He munched on a fried potato chip thoughtfully, as if considering the weight of Ino's words.

Ino nodded, blonde hair bobbing like a massive halo above her head. "If she's as terrible as you claim—"

"She's far worse," Shikamaru assured her, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. The parchment was titled 'Will' and had Ino and Chouji's names written in scrawny, thin handwriting. His valuables, which he was assigning to each of them, were simple things—his desk, his closet, his silver chess set, his stash of food, his clothes.

"Yes, well, if she is as you claim," Ino continued, pausing only to look at what was written on the parchment to comment that no, she did not want his clothes after his untimely death via strangulation by his spouse. "If she is as you claim, than you must fight her with unnerving kindness."

"How would that work?" Chouji asked, genuinely interested. His hand was poised in the air, halfway to his mouth, a brown chip carefully held in his pudgy hands. "From what I gather, she's an absolute horror."

Ino nodded, smiling wickedly. "Exactly. If she is, as you say, an absolute horror, then she'd be absolutely horrified by the kindness you throw at her."

Shikamaru stared at her, his narrow eyes blinking slowly. He didn't understand a single word that came out of the blonde's mouth. Granted, that wasn't unusual in his case, but then again, he wasn't usually in dire need of her for the sake of his life and future (and quite possibly, his sanity).

"What."

It wasn't even a question on Shikamaru's part. He was confused. Positively and utterly confused. He had no idea what was going on in that blonde head, nor was he too sure he wanted to know. Ino was brilliant, in her own way, but at that moment, not only was she making no sense, as per usual, but she was making him want to bash his head into a wall and jam a quill into his ear.

"Think of it this way." Ino casually swiped away Shikamaru's things, sending a flurry of parchment into the air as she leaned back, draping herself across his desk. She flashed Chouji a smile as he stared at her, wide eyed and struck by her position. "I like men to chase me. Correct?"

Chouji nodded vehemently, but was completely ignored by the blonde angel as she stared directly at Shikamaru. Shikamaru secretly pitied Chouji, his heart going out immediately to his best friend.

"But if a guy chases me too much, I get terribly bored. This princess probably wants you to be nice and let her win. But if you're too nice, you're only going to annoy her and make her want to end things even quicker on her own. It's just the way women work, you know. We're complex creatures."

He couldn't help but to agree there. His mother was insane enough. At moments, she was caring and almost motherly, but then at others she was simply a screaming banshee demanding this, demanding that, stand up straight, don't say yes twice, don't breathe so hard, don't chew so loud, etc. etc. And then at others, she completely ignored him.

Then there was Ino, who was a complexity all by herself and should have honestly been considered her very own sub-species in the human race. She was girly, vain, shallow and a completely airhead. But then she could outsmart even the most intelligent man, could probably just as easily hurt them, and could very well rule an entire country without breaking a sweat.

So Shikamaru had very little doubt that women were, indeed, complex creatures.

As Ino spoke, Shikamaru went through the scenario, nodding silently as the seconds trickled by and the scenes came quicker and clearer. He could see it working. Temari, his soon-to-be-bride-of-doom-and-other-ungodly-dreadful-things, was probably aiming for his cooperation. After all, he had been somewhat tolerable of her the last few days he had run into her around the castle by bowing as low as he could without disgracing himself and running promptly away. But if he were suddenly to turn around and go out of his way to make sure she was "happy," providing her with an abundance of attention and care, he was positive it would drive her nerves to their breaking point and make her run away as fast as her legs could carry her.

Fool proof.

He smiled at Ino and was rewarded by a dazzling smile in return. He couldn't blame Chouji for falling for the girl—she was beautiful, if not deadly. But still, he knew her too well to fall for her charms, and was merely thankful she had decided to grace him with her presence as a friend. Else he would never have come up with what he did. Or have lived long enough, for that matter.

He was starting to think that most of the women he encountered in his life were either 1) angry, 2) deadly, and 3) out to get him.

"Ino, what do I do if this backfires?"

She scowled at him and raised her hand before bringing it down and smacking it across his head. "Silly, you don't think about things like that before it happens."

* * *

Sometimes, he wished he didn't listen to her.

It had been a week since his future-wife (who, in the confinements of his mind, he called She-Who-Was-Sent-Down-From-the-Heavens-to-Oficially-Maim-and-Destroy-Me) had arrived at the castle, and he had only exchanged perhaps two words with her in his attempt to get away from her.

It was time to start The Plan.

The first formal dinner they were to share would be that night. He hadn't seen her at meal times (because he actively avoided her, of course) and had no idea what to expect. He was sure that it wouldn't be that bad, until a servant informed him that his parents would be there to "keep an eye on things."

Which meant that if his mother figured out what he was trying to pull, not only would he die far earlier than he had originally planned, even under these special marriage-related circumstances, but that death would be painful and last a long, long, long time.

"Keep calm, Shikamaru," he told himself as he stared into his floor-length mirror and judged himself.

If it weren't for his brains, he decided, cocking his head to the side and wincing as his tendons stuck out, he'd be rather useless. He wasn't very good looking; he was far too skinny and he wasn't even tall enough to be the kind of guy all the girls in town would go for. His skin was a little too pale and his eyebrows were something Ino had always been jealous of, thin and carefully arched like his mother's. The black spike that stuck out of his head seemed strikingly dark against his skin, and he winced when he tried to run his fingers through his hair. There was no hope for him, none at all. And, to be very honest, he was perfectly content with just that. Good looks were for those who could spare them. He had a decent, intelligent brain that made up for his lack of good looks.

He walked to the grand, private dinning hall like a man condemned of high treason and making his last walk to the gallows. His head was low, his hands were thrust in his pockets, and his feet were shuffling and dragging. You could say he resembled Sasuke Uchiha in this manner, only a lot less cooler. And obviously with far less sorrowful things to dwell upon and be depressed over.

Shikamaru wasn't going to make it. He was going to be found out and threatened and mutilated by his mother. His father would be disappointed. He would be remembered as the worst prince and son. The people of his kingdom would overthrow him. His friends will be torn apart. The Evil-Wife-of-Hell would probably laugh.

He would be a disgrace. He'd be one of those legendary stories told to young boys to warn them about what happens when they are disobedient and don't follow orders. He'll be in history books and palace archives as the good-for-nothing Prince that did nothing for his country and let it all go to hell all because he didn't want to marry some beautiful, foreign, scary princess.

Suddenly, he was forced to stop, as there was another figure standing before him. He lifted his eyes slowly and choked on the saliva that had formed the instant his eyes had taken the sight before him in.

Temari stood before him in all of the glory he didn't want to see. He knew she was a looker; that much he'd been certain of since he'd glimpsed her in her pathetic excuse of undergarments. But she was prettier than he remembered, even when he had seen her the few times he chanced going out of his room.

At first, he hadn't thought she was tall, and her generous curves didn't allow him to focus much, but upon taking a closer look, she was taller than he remembered. The body his father had mentioned was hidden in shadows by a strange dress made of some material he couldn't immediately recognize. Her hair was pinned into a knot at the nape of her neck, and if he hadn't ever heard her speak before or knew she was the devil in disguise, he'd have confused her for a delicate, albeit confident woman.

She cocked her hip to the side at the sight of him, a dark, mischievous smile playing dangerously on her lips. He could tell she was readying herself to say something by the glint in her eyes, the way her full lips opened slowly, the way her tongue flicked behind her teeth like a snake preparing to strike.

He had to beat her to it. He probably had about two seconds to come up with something magnificently witty to shut her up for the rest of the night, enabling him to have hours to devote to getting rid of her and effectively destroying their wedding.

"You look beautiful."

If video cameras had been invented in his time, or had there been a magic spell that would allow him to capture moments like these (there was, but only the evil magician Orochimaru knew of it, and he used it to spy on little boys), he would have done so in a heartbeat.

Temari's face was priceless.

Her initial smirk fell in less than half a second, and her eyes, beautiful and dangerous, twitched along with the corner of her upper lip. All the color in her face rushed away and left her pale and almost lifeless as she stared at him in absolute horror.

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

He gave her what he hoped was a dizzying smile of radiance, though it ended up looking more like a grimace. "You look very beautiful tonight." Though the words burned on his tongue and cut his lips, he wasn't actually lying. The truth was she looked stunning, only that he knew such beauty was laced with the potential of getting obliterated.

The way her mouth hung open reminded him of a fish out of water, struggling to breathe but finding air inadequate. "You. Wait. What?" Her sputtering made the scary air around her dissipate, leaving her looking more like a harmless young woman than the evil monster he knew lurked deep within the confines of her probably very-soft and very-smooth skin.

He knew that the only reason she had been rendered to sputtering and confusion was because she hadn't been expecting it. By the way he acted since the moment she arrived, he was sure that she had assumed that he'd be the first to call off the marriage and run away as fast as his skinny, long legs could carry him. He knew that if she had known he was a bit cleverer than she had originally anticipated, she wouldn't have kept her guard so low.

He knew it would take her only a few seconds to analyze the situation and come up with some horrible plan to get back at him. He could see it in her calculating eyes, the way they flitted back and forth, trying to assess as much of the situation as humanly possible.

That was why he offered her his arm. Keep throwing things at her, stun her, and take advantage. It was why he wasn't too surprised she took his arm even as her mouth opened in question and utter confusion.

At the moment of contact, however, he stiffened, feeling her do the same. He'd never touched a girl before, except Ino (and trust him, she didn't count), and the one time he had to pick Temari up. But those moments didn't count. He had never purposely reached out to touch someone, let alone a beautiful woman who could probably easily dominate him and rip his intestines out through his throat.

He looked down at where their arms linked. Although he wore a shirt and doublet, her dress left her arms bare. He could feel the heat of her skin through his clothing, and the very fact that he could made his own skin flush and heat up.

Oh no.

Shikamaru stared at it for a moment longer, only to be startled out of his staring by her awkward cough.

"Are you just going to keep looking at our linked arms or what?"

He bit his tongue to keep a retort back and instead offered her his best smile, which wasn't much, since he really didn't smile. He had perfected his "Leave-Me-Alone-I'm-Lazy-Shut-Up-Go-Away" look to the T, but smiling was as foreign to him as the woman on his arm was.

"Shall we head in?"

Temari smirked as her eyes rolled to the top of her head in annoyance. "Why yes, I believe so."

He led her in, turning to look at her every once in a while. Apparently, she was too interested in their surroundings, as she never caught him staring. He wondered faintly if she was merely avoiding him, or if she was truly that bored of him that she had to entertain herself elsewhere.

Whatever it was, it was good for him. He could judge her reactions without being caught and secretly admire her side profile.

Hold on. Back up. Wait a minute. What?

He shook his head and mentally berated himself. No. Way. Those thoughts were to disappear and never return. His hormones had absolutely no business in this whatsoever. None.

Shikamaru slowly brought Temari to her seat, extremely aware of the stares he was getting from both his mother and father's part, although his father's look was one that trailed away to look at other things. His mother, however, was watching every step and breath he took, probably judging it to see if he was purposely ruining everything.

His mother, the Queen, then cleared her throat, gaining both his and Temari's attention. She smiled at them both, the smile of a thousand daggers, the smile that could set a nation on fire, the smile that let Shikamaru know that if he screwed something up, she would flail him alive.

As Temari sat down, Shikamaru awkwardly pulled out his chair to follow suit. He was nervous, obviously. He had to over-compliment Temari, make her think of him as a darling, wonderful boy, while at the same time, avoid his mother.

"How wonderful of you to join us," the Queen said, her voice dripping with the same sarcasm Shikamaru had running through his veins. Temari was dripping with sarcasm as well, he knew, except she wore hers all over her body like shea butter.

"I apologize, Mother," Shikamaru began, before Temari could get her word in and thoroughly ruin everything he had worked so hard for in those last three minutes. "I was distracted by Temari's stunning beauty."

Temari's mouth dropped. His mother's eyes twitched. His father was banging his spoon against the table and giggling to himself, like an old fart usually does, except his father was far from old and only farted in the privacy of his own bedroom. The servants were momentarily paralyzed at their stations. The Aho Crow had flown straight into a window of the castle. Somewhere, Chouji's last chip had fallen.

The world was ending.

Except, not really. Everything was perfectly fine, except the Aho Crow. And well, Temari.

The muscles at her neck stood out as she turned to face Shikamaru and glare at him. He was sure that if his parents weren't there, she would reach over and promptly strangle him.

"You are going too far," she mumbled darkly, the edge of her voice letting him know that if his mother ever so much as blinked for a second too long, he would be killed.

His mother, on the other hand, was positively thrilled, even though her eyes were narrowed and she was as calculating as ever. He could tell. He'd been around her enough to know what her scheming face looked like. "I am glad too see you two are getting along. Perhaps we should move the wedding date up a few weeks."

Shikamaru died.

Or, well, he wanted to. In fact, he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, and if it insisted on taking him to the center of the burning core and roast him, he wouldn't mind so much, either. Anything would be bettter than where he was.

Temari's reaction seemed to be quite similar to his. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly as she tried to process what his mother had just said. He knew she was a smart one, but sometimes, even his own mother caught _him_ off guard.

"What do you mean?" Temari finally spoke, her voice near cracking with emotion.

"Originally, the King and I had planned that the wedding between my son and you would occur in a month. But seeing as the two of you are getting along so well, perhaps we should move it up to next week—"

"We are most certainly _not_ getting on well!" Temari interrupted, already standing, her hands made into fists at her sides.

Shikamaru shrugged. "I thought we were. I said you looked nice, didn't I?"

Temari turned, positively fuming. "_You_ will shut up."

"You're cute when you're mad."

She took in a deep breath, her cheeks flaming pink. "I know exactly what you're playing at, and it _won't_ work."

"What is going on here?" the Queen asked, her voice high and strict.

"They're being couple-like," the King answered, his voice weak and muffled by the mask he wore over his mouth. "Almost like when we started dating."

Temari spared the King and Queen a glance before turning back to Shikamaru, far from composed and ready to punch someone in the face. He assumed it was him. "I am _not_ going to be the one to break from this marriage arrangement from _hell_. I will _not_ lose," she whispered, and although her voice was low and as close to calm as one can get when shaking with intense anger, he could feel the deathly intentions oozing from her every pore.

She was so close to snapping. He had only to push a little further…

"You got it, beautiful."

She shook her fists; her blonde hair seemed to stand on end as her anger rose. "I will not lose to you."

He shrugged and forced himself to yawn, trying to look bored. He wasn't, though. Not really. As scary as the foreign princess was, she was rather entertaining, especially when she got so mad and didn't even bother to hide it. At first, she was level headed. He liked that about her. If there would be war, she'd play the game well. But as her nerves began to fray, so did her composure. He liked that, too. As much as a challenge would be wonderfully refreshing, knowing he was bound to win was a comforting reassurance.

"Your patience is wearing thin," he told her, leaning back against his chair and allowing one of the terrified servants to place a napkin over his lap. "If you keep on like that, you're going to lose."

She bit her lip as she stared down at him. A moment later, she was smirking. "Fine, then. If this is the way you want to play, then so be it." She gave him a low curtsy, bowing her head but keeping her eyes on his. "Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, sing-song and atrociously girly. Her eyes suddenly narrowed as she leaned toward him slowly. "Remember this."

And that was the end of his life as he knew it.


	4. In Which the Princess is Insulted

An apology is obviously in order. I had no plans on abandoning this project for as long as I did--unfortunately, writer's block had a completely different idea. Inspiration abandoned me completely and, while I struggled constantly to come up with something to move the story forward, nothing came up. I had the rest of the story down, other moments, other words, but the tiny piece between what happened last and what should happen next was completely missing.

I finally sat down to get my brain juices flowing and came up with this. It isn't perfect and is in fact very far from being good. But I think it's completely necessary in moving the story forward. And right now, I think that's what I needed most.

I guess I must also say that this chapter, and probably the rest of the story, is a little different from the earlier chapters. My writing style has obviously changed, and while I tried to go back to how I originally thought of the thing, it has undoubtedly been a very long, long time. I think I'm getting back into the style, though, so it might all work out. This chapter was terrible to write and no one knows how glad I am to finally get it out of my system and onto my computer system instead.

Sorry for lack of humor and interaction. I just needed to get this ball rolling.

* * *

**Chapter IV  
**_In Which the Princess is Insulted  
_

_Please_, Temari begged, _let this nightmare end!_ Let it all be a terrible ploy to make her admit defeat; let it be a sick, twisted joke that wasn't actually very funny at all. Anything, _anything_ but this.

She closed her eyes and willed it all away. The stone walls, the beautiful gas-lit lamps, the expensive, gold framed mirror that made her look prettier than she ever imagined. But when she opened her eyes, everything was still there.

And so was the Queen of Konoha.

"It does not matter to me what you were taught in your home, but here in Konoha you will behave and act like a proper princess should, and if you should prove yourself unable to do so, I will teach you myself."

Temari bit the inside of her mouth to keep from lashing out. Secretly, a tiny part of her admired the queen that stood before her, tall and graceful and extremely beautiful. But a rather large part of her wanted to drop kick Queen Yoshino in the face, and she had to dig her nails into the palm of her hands to keep from jumping into the air and putting the famed Green Beast of Konoha to shame (even if she didn't really know about his amazing drop kicking techniques just yet).

"My son is turning twenty-one years old in a matter of two months. By Konohanese royalty standards, he is already bordering on old age. My husband has been consumed by a terrible disease that is purely fatal—"

At this, Temari could not keep quiet. She tried, very desperately, knowing that saying anything at all would only prolong the pain and torture of the speech, but her terribly rebel heart flared against the injustice at hand and her lips, so eager to spit poison, moved of their own accord—

"What _is_ this incurable disease he has contracted?" Temari smirked at the twitch in the older woman's eye. "I mean, of all the things I've studied, I've never heard or seen such a thing."

"That is none of your business."

"I'm supposed to be marrying into your family. By all means, he's basically my father-in-law."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Queen Yoshino snapped. "As I was saying, it is only natural that Shikamaru get married before the death of his father. He must prove to his kingdom that he is worthy and stable enough to take over the throne. And to pull at the heartstrings of the kingdom, we need him to get married. You are the key to his success."

"Well, if that weren't putting any pressure on me."

"Because you have behaved so _inappropriately_—"

"I only _kissed_ him."

Dead silence. The Queen seethed. Temari wondered vaguely if that was what she would look like when she hit rock bottom (also known as age forty). Would she breathe fire? Would smoke rise from her ears and crawl out her nose? Would her face turn red with anger and rival the heat of the burning sun?

"I will have you know, young lady, that you are here because your father begged. It was never my idea to marry off my only son to some foreign stranger from distant lands—I had always intended to get the idiot married to Ino. But your father begged, and begged, and begged. He proclaimed that you were intelligent, sophisticated, classy, beautiful. That every man of the Sands was completely and irrevocably in love with you. That Shikamaru would be blessed to have you on his arm and by his throne. And so I relented. I send for you before my husband dies and all I get is some nasty little critter who thinks so high and mighty of herself because she's a princess, because she's beautiful, because she's a little more intelligent than the one-celled organism stagnant at the bottom of a lake." Queen Yoshino narrowed her dark eyes and pointed at Temari. "But now I see why your father has sent you—he doesn't want you, little girl. No one does. So I will be bold enough to suggest that you do exactly as I say or I will send you back to where you're still as unwanted as you were before."

Temari felt her heart splutter in response, and not in the romantic way she usually associated with heart spluttering. No, her heart faltered in the way hearts falter when the truth is laid out before them, the blaring, obvious, undeniable truth that hurts so much its unbearable. It caught her by such a surprise she raised a hand to where her heart was beneath all the skin and bones. She felt it beat furiously, an indecipherable rhythm of anger and pain. She had spent all her life knowing her father had never wanted her—he had made such a thing clear from the moment she was old enough to understand. It had always been painfully obvious that his only interest was Gaara, and when her redheaded brother proved to be far too much to handle, his interest went into everything but his children.

But to have some stranger who knew nothing about her or her family point out the truth was something she had never expected.

And it hurt more than Temari cared to accept.

The Queen took the silence with a smug smile. "You will be instructed in all there is to know about Konoha's history, the Konohanese Royal Family, the rolls of a Konohanese princess, and the people you will soon come to govern. And you will not behave as atrociously as you did tonight."

Temari wanted to say something. She had it sitting on the tip of her tongue, growing angrier and angrier for being kept away from hearing ears. But she couldn't. She could barely move her tongue, let alone open her mouth to let the words fly into the air. Her skin crawled with unease and disgust, and her heart felt laden with the truth that the queen was right—she was here because she served only one purpose:

To be married.

* * *

"I feel as if I'm trying to train an idiot," Ino mumbled darkly, glaring daggers at Shikamaru, who sat before her completely and utterly bored.

He had tried to explain what had happened at dinner. How he'd been positively charming in the most disgusting and condescending way he could manage. How he and the foreign princess had been at each other's throats with compliments and false, sugary smiles dripping with poison. How he had almost pinned the girl down and had been about to win till she sprung that stupid, little conniving move.

And kissed him.

The memory still managed to paralyze him. He had never kissed a girl before; he'd had plenty of women throw themselves at him, purely because he was the next in line for the throne and he was the next fairly good-looking man after the Uchiha brothers and Neji Hyuuga. But the sensation of lips pressing against one another was completely foreign to him. He had been half-expecting his first kiss to be with someone he liked alright, someone shorter and nicer and not nearly as savage. But when the Sunan princess pressed her lips against his, so soft and invitingly warm yet fierce and dominating, all he could see was her brilliant eyes imprinted into the back of his eyelids.

Even now.

"You let her win!" Ino brought him out of his dark musings with her shrill voice. And although he was grateful, he couldn't help the pang in his heart at the blurring image of Temari's smug face as she leaned away from him after she finished stealing his first kiss.

"I didn't _let_ her win, Ino." Shikamaru glared at her with all the malice of a turtle. "She stole my first kiss for goodness sake's."

Chouji tittered from his place at the foot of his bed. "Man, you're never going to get that back, too. I mean, you should have saved it for someone special, someone you really liked."

Shikamaru bowed his head in embarrassment. As much as he disliked the female sex, he really _had_ been hoping his first kiss would be a girl that was everything Temari wasn't.

Ino stared between the two before rolling her eyes and slamming her fist on the table. "Oh, stop being such little girls. A kiss is a kiss. In some places, like Ame, kissing means nothing but a greeting! In fact, the two of you should kiss as many girls as possible so the idiots that end up with you don't have to teach you everything."

The prince sighed, ignoring Chouji as he stuttered, "W-wait, does this mean you've kissed a lot of boys, Ino?"

Ino ignored the chubby boy completely and glared at the dark haired one sitting before her. "Really, I wouldn't be surprised if your mother is doing all the work for you in getting rid of the girl. She's probably giving her the biggest piece of her mind in her history of piece-of-mind-givings. The princess is probably already running for the hills."

"I can only wish," he muttered.

"Look, Shika, you're doing a terrible job. I told you this was going to take time and that you would always have to be one step ahead of her. But look where you are now. I mean, I bet Her Highness is going to come in here and tell you you're going to marry the princess in a month!"

At that exact moment, as if prompted by fate or something akin to it, the Queen rushed into his room, slamming the rather large door of his bedroom and rattling the bookcases that had been unfortunate enough to be placed near the entrance.

"Oh no," he muttered, seeing the look in his mother's eyes reflecting fire.

"Oh no is quite right, Shikamaru Nara."

His friends sucked in their breaths, knowing that the worst was just about to occur. It always did when his full name was uttered by the terrifying hag.

"After the little display tonight, I've decided that there is no time to dawdle. Your father is gravely ill, and if more and more people find out about Princess Temari and her ill behavior, they will be opposed to your marriage and your coming to the throne. I have decided that the wedding will be rescheduled."

"What?" Chouji and Ino said.

"When?" Shikamaru dared himself to ask.

"A month."

Shikamaru knew the world was out to get him. Ever since the beautiful day he'd been given the worst combination of news. Now he was just sure that life was out to ridicule him, throwing just about everything into the pot and letting all run wild. All was fair game now, it seemed. Pretty soon, he suspected life was going to throw the curveball where he would find the love of his life—only she'd be trapped in a frog's body, waiting for his first kiss to set her free, and then he'd have to disappoint her in revealing that his first kiss had been stolen by the one woman he never wanted to be with.

"A month?" Shikamaru shook his head. "That's too soon. I'm only twenty! I want to do things with my life. Drink alcohol, smoke a cigar, have sex with a bunch of prostitutes!"

The Queen rolled her eyes. "A month. If you continue to speak, I will make it two weeks." She turned to Ino, "In that month, I need you to teach Princess Temari all there is about Konoha, the Royal Family, and all the traditions and responsibilities she will need to learn to do her role as Queen well. You should also teach her how to be a lady, as she seems lacking in that department as well."

"Mom!"

The Queen did not soften as she looked down at the man that looked so much like the King. "Do not 'Mom' me, Shikamaru. You will _not_ disappoint me. I forbid you to send your father and me to an early grave."

"Mom, you're being overdramatic."

"And you're being selfish and inconsiderate. Your father is dying, Shikamaru. This is your responsibility as son and Prince of Konoha."

Before Ino could ask the burning question, before Chouji could offer his chips in an effort to comfort, before Shikamaru could sit through resigning himself to fate, the door was thrown open once more.

Only a blonde stood behind it this time.

* * *

Temari saw red. Every servant she stormed past dove for cover and hoped that the blonde princess only murdered a few people on her way to her target. And her target wore an annoying ponytail that resembled the exotic, rare fruit her kingdom was famous for.

"You."

She stood before his door, glaring at him with all the fury she could summon to her eyes and hoping he got the picture. His friends—a blonde girl far too pretty to be associating with people like Mr. I'm-the-Prince-with-a-Crazy-Ass-Mother and a chubbier boy with the kindest face she had ever seen—stared at her with wide eyes that probably reflected as much fear and confusion as hers did absolute and unadulterated anger.

Shikamaru, however, seemed to be unmoved, and glared right back at her with the most vacant look anyone in the world could possibly possess. According to Temari, of course.

The Queen observed the exchange detachedly. She waved a hand at the two of them, signaling for silence. "This is perfect," she announced. "I will tell you both what I expect from now on."

"Mom," Shikamaru groaned quietly.

"What did you call me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mother."

"That's what I thought."

"I don't think moving the wedding up is a good idea."

Jackpot.

If Temari had just been accused of being completely worthless in all aspects of the word, then her attempts at convincing the Queen Mother of the Konoha Kingdom had gone down the drain the moment she had thrown propriety out the window. But Shikamaru was still her son, and he still had as much influence as a twenty-year-old-boy avoiding marriage could have on his marriage-forcing mother.

And if it was Shikamaru throwing in the towel, foregoing how angry and _pissed_ she was, Temari would relish in the victory of knowing she had survived being told off by a bitchy queen and being shipped an immeasurable amount of leagues to a far better looking palace than her own.

Still, Temari did not allow herself to reveal the smugness that was making her warm all over. She kept her face as blank as possible, taking a page out of Shikamaru's very short book. She carefully rearranged her features, only allowing herself to glare at the blonde beauty that observed her curiously.

"Of course you don't. You're a man. Anything that may suggest commitment is a terrible idea."

Temari watched Shikamaru from underneath her eyelashes and watched him shake his head. "That isn't it, Mom. The truth is… I want to marry her…when I love her."

The Queen scoffed. The blonde girl gasped. The redheaded chubby guy choked. Temari did a number of things that, under normal circumstances, may have set the Queen off on another tirade of improper princess behavior.

"Love," the Queen responded, "is not for royals. Love is a myth we cannot afford for ourselves."

"You love Pops," he contradicted.

Temari winced. This was not going to be pretty.

"Not by choice," the Queen mumbled.

"Mother, I really want to do this on my own terms."

"No."

Shikamaru glared. Temari's smile widened.

"Then…perhaps if we could spend time together. Alone."

What?

Temari begged. She begged all the higher beings, holy powers; fate, luck, and all those in between for the ground beneath her feet to open up and swallow her completely, getting rid of the image before her and perhaps depositing her in the middle of an ocean, just to be safe. She offered all kinds of sacrifices in return—she swore on abandoning meat, eating seafood, leaving behind her one and only ability of intimidating just about everyone and instead focusing on being wholesome and kind. She offered up just about everything, even the pet ferret she didn't own but one day hoped to.

And still, the ground did not open up and do as she asked. The heavens did not split and hail a storm on her. Not even a mere interruption, like a servant running in accidentally, or even the Aho Crow crashing into one of the windows and causing a moment of mayhem.

No. Instead, all Temari received in answer to her prayers was utter silence, where no one could even breathe. Where everyone's eyes were fixed on the last person who spoke (Shikamaru) and wondering what on earth said person could be thinking (something obviously crazy).

His mother was the first to break the silence. She seemed to regain her composure, blinking so rapidly it made her stern appearance soften. "Did you… are you… did you just say what I think you just said?"

"He's bluffing," Temari muttered, watching him intently.

Shikamaru shook his head. "I am completely serious, Mother. I want to spend time with Temari. I want to fall in love with her."

The Queen smiled triumphantly. The blonde girl sat in perfect awe. The fat boy made a noise akin to a hacking wheeze and a sob. And Temari, in all the conflicting emotions that whirled in the pit of her stomach, all she could think was,

_Shikamaru_ 1, _Temari_ 1.


	5. In Which the Prince Amends His Attack

Apologies are in order. However, here is a story to make you happy. I wrote this today and I'm actually EXTREMELY satisfied. I feel like I've gotten back into this story and finally broke through the wall that was keeping me from moving forward. Look for more updates soon! Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

**Chapter V**  
_In Which the Prince Amends His Attack Technique_

Killing her with kindness, as Ino called it, was not working so well. Even in a desperate attempt to rectify things (and by rectify, Shikamaru meant "throw everything into complete disarray and hope for the best"), he had only managed to anger his mother, anger the future-wife, and sign himself up for unsupervised dates, which meant he had a very large possibility of being killed and no one ever finding his body.

Temari was a better opponent than both Shikamaru and Ino had given her credit for. He should have guessed, really, seeing as she was a woman, and most women were wily, sly creatures planning evil plots. Like his mother. And Ino. And his maid. And the cook. And his old nanny. And that girl that glared at him every time he went by the stables. Or the magician's apprentice in the topmost tower. Anyway, the point was, women were crazy and he knew this, so he shouldn't have been shocked to see that Temari was far more difficult to get rid of then she was supposed to be.

Shikamaru sat devastated—except not really, because being devastated required quite an amount of effort and Shikamaru just didn't have the necessary energy to go full out in being devastated—at his desk, eyes staring blankly at the pages that littered it. He caught some of the words; "marriage certificate," "wedding ceremony," "final confirmation for joining the Brotherhood in case of escaping arranged marriage." They all made him want to throw up.

Ino considered their options in typical Ino fashion, involving a lot of pacing, hand gestures, comments on Chouji's weight, and the occasional slap across Shikamaru's tender head.

"Ino, stop pacing," Shikamaru orderd, glaring at her as he clutched his stinging face. She had, quite unfortunately, missed and slapped his cheek instead. Watching the beautiful blonde go back and forth was making him go mad with worry, because if _she_ couldn't think of something, that meant _he_ had to.

Besides, was all the hitting even necessary? He was sure there was a rule somewhere that prohibited the physical abuse of future kings.

Chouji, who sat on Shikamaru's bed without holding his favorite barbecue chips, gave the poor prince a sympathetic glance as Ino returned the glare with one of her own. Shikamaru felt sure there were some daggers being telepathically propelled his way.

"I am _trying_ to help you. It is not my fault your mother would choose such a clever wife for you."

She had a point. Most mothers of future kings would choose a submissive, pretty wife who wouldn't question being the reproductive slave of a royal household.

"Actually, I'm not surprised," Chouji said, looking particularly unaffected by Ino's death stare, now turned on full force.

Shikamaru shrugged. "Yeah, me neither."

Ino took a seat in her favorite chair, which she had ordered Shikamaru to drag from of the many stately rooms of the palace. She arranged her skirts carefully around her, smoothing away invisible wrinkles only she seemed to see.

Suddenly, her eyes were lit with the same look Shikamaru had come to dread. She smiled, her teeth a dazzling white fire of danger, and said, "I have an idea."

Shikamaru groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. "I've really come to hate the sound of that."

Ino pretended he hadn't said a word and continued, "Well, it's more like an amended version of the first plan. That you ruined, anyway."

"I don't want to know."

"Just listen to me."

"That was my first mistake."

"Maybe you should just listen to her, Shikamaru."

"Yeah, listen to Chouji and listen to me." The agitation was clear in her voice, so clear, in fact, that Shikamaru knew he had only a few seconds left of any self-will.

"I'm the prince. Shouldn't I be the one ordering _you_ guys around?"

Ino rolled her eyes. "If you had some sort of backbone, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place, now would you?" She stood and placed her hands on her hips. "Just shut up and do as you're told."

"One day," Shikamaru warned warily.

"I'll be waiting patiently. Now, you did alright in shocking her into silence with your flirting—or whatever that was, you weren't particularly charming or anything. Maybe you have to be a bit more direct, more aggressive, more… serious."

"I'm the very picture of seriousness."

Ino stared.

Shikamaru sighed. "What do you mean, then?" Shikamaru had a strange feeling that this was going to entail far more exertion than he had in his possession. He also have a very strange feeling that this was going to backfire painfully, but in proper Shikamaru fashion, he did not mention it and instead chose to file it away in the back of his mind and hope against hope he was wrong.

Even if that was hardly ever the case.

"I mean," Ino began, pacing again, "you must tell her out right that you have decided to go on with this wedding, intend to fall in love with her and, in turn, make her fall in love with you."

Shikamaru did not like the idea.

If anything, it seemed like he was giving up.

"Wait, how exactly would this help Shikamaru?"

The laugh Ino gave made goose bumps rise along his skin and reminded him that Ino had a way with knowing the way the mind worked.

"It will terrify her. The more determined Shikamaru is in 'marrying' her, the more trapped she will feel. She'll start to believe there is no other way to escape the marriage than calling it off herself."

"That doesn't sound like a good idea," Chouji murmured, looking bewildered.

"It's a great idea!" Ino declared.

"But… Shikamaru might—"

"Wait," Shikamaru said.

It could work. He'd toyed with the idea before, but it had been fleeting. He was too engrossed in hating his situation to truly consider that if he scared the girl enough—a girl who valued her freedom and self-preservation—she might run far enough away from him on her own. He didn't need to drive her away. At least, not literally.

He had to bring her closer.

Wasn't there a saying? Don't cry over spilt milk? Eat your spinach. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer?

She wouldn't know what to do with the attention. Sure, being kind to her had shocked her enough times to satisfy his ego, but she was quick in responding. She knew what he was playing at. But if he suddenly turned around, acted like an obedient son and prince, and decided to go through with the marriage, she would realize that there was nothing she could do except follow along or break the engagement herself.

"This… just might work."

Ino was gleaming. "I know. Everything I think of does."

* * *

"Temari."

The look she gave him was pure venom. He almost backed off and ran as far from her as he could but he sucked in a deep breath and held it as she observed him with her frightening glare.

"What?" she barked.

She was pleasant this evening.

He edged his way into her chamber, taking the surroundings all in. He'd never really visited any of the other rooms of the palace before. Chouji and Ino had their own apartments whenever they visited, which was often now that their fathers were keeping an eye on things, but other visitors had never invited him. It was the first time he had ever seen one of the bedrooms outside the ones of his family and his friends, and it was almost as foreign as the woman who resided in it.

She had certainly managed to turn it into her own. He figured someone in the palace had done enough research on Suna to figure out it was a deserted, windy, muted place with lots of earthy colors, aka brown and some more brown. That was probably why they had placed the foreign princess in this room.

He had always pictured the distant lands of Suna as a scary place too windy to walk and too hot to think. He pictured starving people, stranded men aching for a drop of water. He couldn't picture any animals out in the dunes, and when he tried to picture the townspeople of the kingdom, he could only picture stony faces and prickly personalities with blonde hair and startling teal eyes.

That was why the room was so strange. What he had pictured to be a barren place encased in four walls was warm and inviting; cozy, unlike the rest of the palace which was beautiful, pristine, and totally off limits. Colorful scarves hung from the windows and the tops of her four-poster bed. Burning lamps were found in every corner of the room, scented oils wafting in the air, musky and sensual. Temari, amongst her glittering scarves and incense, must have been the perfect representation of a Sunan goddess, dressed in a flimsy gold gown he was sure was inappropriate everywhere else in the world.

"I need to talk to you."

The blonde woman put the book she had been reading to the side as she sat up straighter and crossed her legs. Shikamaru had a difficult time remembering how to breathe.

"Then talk."

"May I sit?"

"No."

The spell was broken. No longer was Temari the epitome of a forbidden goddess; she had returned to being the Irritable Situation Shikamaru had to get rid of.

He pulled one of the armchairs towards her, ignoring her hiss of displeasure.

"This is serious."

"And I was quite serious when I told you, you can't sit."

"I'm the prince," he reminded her, counting to ten in his mind in an effort to keep some control.

She smirked and cocked her head to the side. "Then you shouldn't have pretended to ask for my permission if you planned on going through with the action, anyway."

Shikamaru couldn't help it. She was so vexing and it made him want to strangle himself. "Why are you so difficult?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "I was raised that way. When you spend your whole life in the desert, you must become difficult to move, difficult to displace, difficult to kill."

"No one is trying to kill you here."

"You might as well. Is that what you came here to talk about?"

"No."

"Then get on with it. I'm reading your pathetic excuse of a national history book, here."

He frowned. She was testing him. She was grating his nerves on purpose.

But he couldn't fall for it. He had a mission. He had to pretend to fall in love with her. And he knew what people in love did. They accepted the person's faults, pretended they were the sun and the moon. Act like little girls.

"I see you are following my mother's advice. I am so glad."

Her smirk fell. Her eyes widened. She leaned back a fraction of an inch, as if repelled. Her hand fluttered to her neck involuntarily before she realized what she had done and let it fall back to her side.

"What?"

"This is why I've come to talk to you… my dear."

All the color from her face drained away. She looked like death.

"Dear?" The hard edge in her voice was extremely admirable. She almost sounded angry.

Oh wait. She was. At least, he thought she was, judging by the way her fingers were curled around the armrest, knuckles so white they were practically translucent, and the way the blood was slowly coming back to fill her cheeks, only it was more like a flooding blood-boiling river than an innocent blush.

"I've really been thinking about it and—"

"You can think?"

Pretend she didn't say anything. Pretend she didn't say anything. "I was thinking that it is high time I stop running away from my destiny, from my job—"

"Why did you have to decide to stop running _now_?"

He continued, "I am meant to become king and I am meant to marry you. I want to fall in love with you, Temari. I want to marry you and have a family together."

"You are out of your mind!"

Yup. He had pissed her off.

She was fuming. He was almost positive that he saw tendrils of smoke rising up from her ears. Her face was so red he was afraid she would burst (which would be extremely difficult to explain to his mother…and the maids). She pointed a finger at him (his face, really) and shook her other hand menacingly. This was probably what really giant bullies looked like when they were drunk in the pubs.

"Please, listen to me—"

"No," she cut off, "you listen to me. I don't know what you're playing at. I don't know what you're trying to do. But I will never, ever marry you, even if it means I have to call this thing off myself."

"I'm going to try everything I can to make you love me, Temari, just as I know I will come to love you."

"Get out of my room!"

He stood as she started advancing on him. When had she managed to get that dagger? Wait, where _did that dagger even come from_?

"I know we'll be very happy together!"

"I am going to _kill_ you." She brandished the dagger. She probably knew how to use it.

Shikamaru went around the chair, using it as cover, only it didn't serve much of a cover at all as she easily sidestepped him and closed in on him. He shuffled backwards quickly, avoiding her. "We can make this work, Temari."

"Over your dead body."

He had somehow reached the door. He wrenched it open in a second, dodging her fisted hand. He stepped through the threshold and—

Bumped into a messenger.

The messenger looked pretty much horrified but seemed to gain his composure as Shikamaru righted himself. Temari paused in her retaliation with dagger in hand. Only it wasn't much of a dagger and more a letter opener.

"Great news, my prince and my lady."

"The wedding is off?" Temari asked.

The messenger looked uncomfortable as he removed a scroll from his waist and held it up to the light. "A ball will be held in honor of your engagement! Your marriage will be announced to all the land!"

"What?" Shikamaru said.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"It will be held tomorrow night!"

And, as if on cue (but Shikamaru knew it was because the man wanted to live another day), the messenger turned away.

Shikamaru watched Temari from the corner of his eyes. He could see the confusion in her face, the way she battled her emotions—kill him, kill the messenger, or kill herself. She clutched the dagger tightly and leaned against the door to her room. Her eyes flitted back and forth, desperately. There was more than murderous intent written in her gaze. Even if it pained him to admit it, there was the flicker of bright intelligence, the realization that if the wedding were to go through, she would lose any autonomy she may have had as a princess and as a woman. This was more than being upset over her feelings being unconsidered. It was an argument of being able to live a life she wished to lead with the person she wanted to lead it with. And, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he had to admire her for that.

"Let's start afresh, Temari."

She looked up at him, surprised, drained, unable to fight. He knew what she was feeling. She had thought she was winning this fight, only to realize that he had been one step ahead of her.

"I am Nara Shikamaru, and I will be your husband. I hope to fall in love with you, and in turn, I hope you will fall in love with me."

He would never forget her face then. Wide eyes, a parted mouth, and the surprise one can only experience when in checkmate.


	6. In Which the Princess Goes to the Ball

**Chapter VI**  
_In Which the Princess Goes to the Ball_

Temari spent most of the day leading up to the night of the ball glaring. She glared at herself in the mirror, glared at her bed, glared at the poor servant that came into her room to leave porridge, glared at the servant that tried to clean her room since it looked like a hurricane had run right through it, glared at the door, glared at the floor, and finally, glared at Ino.

She didn't like Ino. She didn't like how blonde the girl looked, or how fair her skin was, or that the girl was a riveting beauty in every way she wasn't. She especially didn't like that no matter what she said, Ino did not leave her room.

"I'm going to be your tutor," the blonde said, all smiles and blue eyes. "I'm very excited."

"I can read perfectly fine without your help." Temari glared at the books that the girl had brought in and dumped onto her desk.

"I bet you can," Ino responded, foraging in Temari's wardrobe without permission. She began to scrutinize all her gowns with all the skill of a pig. "Still, I am to be your tutor."

Why was she looking at her dresses for? "

Temari glared at the gown the girl held. "You can put that down."

Ino looked at her and grinned. "I'm going to help you pick out a dress!"

It took all the amount of self-control Temari held in her possession to keep from indulging in the violent attacks that were pulling at her conscious and fist. She breathed in deeply and responded, "Much like my ability to read, I am perfectly capable of choosing what to wear and dressing myself."

A nervous giggle filled the air before Ino said, "There has been some debate about that. Not the reading part, but the choosing your attire part."

It seemed that all of the population in Konoha was bent on making her want to kill them. Temari dug her nails into her palm and bit the sides of her cheek. "I beg your pardon?"

Ino lowered the gown to face Temari. "I mean the Queen doesn't trust your choice of style. Many of your prior dresses have been questioned."

"Questioned?"

"About… decency."

"They are perfectly decent."

Ino shifted uncomfortably. "In Suna."

"My home."

"Yes. But it's not your home anymore, is it?" Ino reached into the wardrobe and took out a gown and held it out to Temari. "This is beautiful! It matches your eyes perfectly!"

Temari smirked and cocked her head at it, raising an eyebrow. "Should I wear that to the ball, then?"

Ino nodded, walking forward. "Yes! You'll look stunning."

"Great." Temari reached behind her back and undid the strings that held her dress up, letting it fall and pool at her feet. "Then dress me."

It was the only thing that managed to send Ino screaming from her room.

* * *

Ino's blush did not disappear for most of the time that followed the Somewhat-Naked Temari Incident. Even as the girl curled Temari's hair and piled it on her head, the red that filled the girl's cheeks did not dissipate.

"Will you get over it?" Temari muttered darkly, meeting the girl's eyes in the mirror. "We both have the very same bits."

Ino pulled her hair, making Temari yelp—but only slightly. "I am beyond ashamed. I've seen my future Queen's—"

"Grow up."

"How am I ever going to look at Shikamaru in the eye now?"

Temari rolled her eyes. "You saw a pair of breasts, not the holy—"

"Can we stop?" Ino's eyes were bulging out of their sockets, Temari's straw-like hair wrapped tightly in a vice grip that threatened to pull her scalp clean off.

"You're overreacting. And I would like to have my head attached to my neck, thank you."

"I just can't stop picturing it—it's like it has been ingrained into my mind, forever plaguing me like a nightmare."

Temari was growing irritated. "Now you're just exaggerating."

"I wish I could remove myself from my mind, if only to escape the horrid image—"

"Really? I don't think they're a terrible pair of breasts, you know."

"Horrid, horrid—"

Temari decided to block the girl out by then. She had more important things to concentrate on.

Like the ball.

She didn't know what to expect. Balls in Suna were quiet affairs. They were done only to announce extremely important things, and people were always too preoccupied with what was to be announced to focus on enjoying themselves. Not that Temari could blame her people—all the balls in her time had either been to announce a death or to announce a war. Or both.

But in Konoha, things seemed a little different. The entire palace was up in arms with excitement, servants running in and out, trying to create perfection with last minute additions and details. Despite the entire event being put on for the sole purpose of announcing to all the land that she was to marry the future King of Konoha, the festive air was intoxicating. Temari could feel her veins thrumming with anticipation, her heart hammering against her chest, urging time to go faster. She also partly blamed the fact that Ino was invoking all types of murderous intent on her hair, which made Temari far more eager to get out of her room and away from Ino's hands.

"I'm done," Ino breathed, stepping away from Temari and admiring her handiwork. "It took me longer than usual, seeing as your breasts were all I could think about."

Temari had difficulty sustaining the need to laugh. "I'm flattered, but I must remind you, I am engaged against my will to your prince. I mean, you can fight for my hand and all—"

Ino shook with embarrassment. "I hate you."

"You can leave now."

Ino's shoulders fell, and although she looked like a dream in her ice-blue dress, the disappointment was clearly written all over her. "I wish. Part of the gig of being your tutor is that I'm pretty much your slave, here to make sure you don't embarrass the Royal Family. I have no choice but to be around you _forever_."

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing. Imagine how many other opportunities are going to arise where you can see the _rest_ of me."

"Death, be swift," Ino implored.

Much against her will, a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. As she walked alongside the radiant blonde, she became aware that she was smiling. Not (just) because she enjoyed making others uncomfortable with her breasts, but because she didn't feel like a terrible, traitorous princess while she was with Ino. Sure, she was mildly (and by mildly, she meant extremely) jealous that Ino was slim in a way Temari was not, was beautiful in a way Temari was not, and was lucky in a way Temari was not, but it didn't irk her nearly as much as it had before. She hadn't thought of how she was going to ruin the night in over an hour, which was an admirable feat, seeing as she had been conjuring up every possible thing that could go Wrong in all the hours she had been awake. In the few hours she had spent with the girl, she hadn't felt so terrible at all.

Of course, that all changed as they reached the flight of stairs that would lead into the grand ballroom.

Ino turned to face her, regarding her as a work of art she was extremely proud of. "You pull together quite well." She peered over Temari's shoulder. "Well, Shikamaru will be waiting for you at the bottom. Someone will announce your arrival."

"What?"

Ino pushed her slightly towards the railing polished to reflect the lights that were glittering all over the place. "Did I forget to mention that part? Well, sorry. You have to go now. Have fun! I'll see you in a bit. Please don't ruin all my hard work—I don't want to have to explain myself to the Queen tonight."

Before Temari could get another word out, or at least turn around and punch someone, she was thrust down the stairs, tripping slightly over her heels. Suddenly, hushed silence filled the air as she descended, one step at a time.

This was ridiculous. Temari didn't want to be there. She was wearing a stupid dress that barely accentuated any of her curves. She was wearing heels that she would have much preferred drilling into Shikamaru's skull. She was being presented to a bunch of people she didn't care about who were probably only going to stand there, judge her, and comment about her hair. This was nothing but a complete disaster and she didn't want to be blamed for something else that had fallen apart in failure. All she waned was to be home, with her brothers, sleeping in her own room, dealing with her own people, living the life she knew and not one she'd been forced into.

She could see Shikamaru waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase, a vision in black. She hated to admit it, but he looked spectacularly dashing in his suit, perfectly tailored to fit his skinny body and accentuate the build he actually had. His hair seemed to have undergone the workings of a miracle, lying straight down without so much as a strand out of place, much unlike her own hair, which she could already feel straining against the various pins Ino had somehow stabbed into her head. He was the perfect prince, and as he watched her decend the stairs, he looked like he deserved the perfect princess, and that was something she could not offer.

When she reached the bottom of the landing, he stared at her with open surprise, his mouth in the form of an O as he regarded her with wide eyes. His arm, which should have been offered to her the moment her foot touched the ground, was still at his side, paralyzed by the effect she seemed to have on him.

"You look different," he said, without masking the astonishment evident in his voice.

She smirked, triumphant and slightly cocky. He was right: she did look good. She wasn't about to _not_ take the compliment.

"You're beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice made her step back. The words were so genuine, she didn't know how she felt about them. The first time he had said those words, she could smell the deceit in them; but this time, she couldn't find a lie in any of the sounds.

"Prince Shikamaru and Princess Temari of Suna," announced a voice, loud and clear, making the people around them even more confused as to who this Temari could possibly be and why she was being announced alongside with the Crown Prince. It made Temari increasingly uncomfortable with the spotlight, which many would believe was contrary to her personality, but wasn't. It wasn't like she didn't appreciate attention; it was only that unwanted and unnecessary attention was not her cup of tea. Or ball, for that matter.

He took her hand in his, making her jolt. Quickly, he draped it over his extended arm, the brief contact setting her skin on fire in a very unpleasant way. He began to move, dragging her along, smiling at those that stared in disbelief at the scene before them.

"Keep up," he muttered, leading her to the front of the room where four thrones awaited. The King and Queen sat side by side, the King looking only slightly drugged while the Queen radiated power and glory. Two empty thrones were on either side of the royal couple, though the seat to the King's right was far more lavish than the one on the Queen's left.

He led her to the simpler seat. "My Lady."

She wanted nothing more than to stand her ground, stomp her feet, fold her arms, and glare at everyone around her and make her demands known (that no, she was not going to marry Shikamaru and that no, she was not going to sit in that stupid chair). Instead, as she regarded the people of her future kingdom and regarded the family she was being forced to marry into, she was hit with the feeling that there was not going to be an escape plan. There was no way to get out of this situation, and that as far as everyone in the world besides her was concerned, she was going to go through with this marriage, regardless of whether she wanted to or not.

And the realization left her breathless, which led to being woozy, which led to having Shikamaru carefully sit her down in the throne beside his mother, if only to allow her to catch her breath.

In the moment Shikamaru's own behind touched his seat and for her to regain her breath, however, the Queen stood, and a hushed, reverent silence fell upon the people that gathered in the very large ballroom.

"We are very pleased to announce the engagement of the Crown Prince Shikamaru and the Princess of Suna, Temari. The royal couple will commence the ball with a dance."

Dance? Suddenly, the breathlessness she had felt before and then the regaining of breath did not matter, and she was once again breathless. Temari did not dance. Temari watched others dance and then comment about their ill form. Temari would reject suitors and scorn the offered hands of other seemingly innocent males. But, most of all, Temari did not engage in the past time, as it was usual for princesses to partake in such an endeavor and because of this did exactly the opposite in an effort to rebel.

"Temari?"

She frowned at the prince, giving him her right hand and letting him help her up. "No one said you can call me by my name."

She could see the effort it took for him to keep his eyes from rolling and his mouth from sucking at his teeth. "Then what should I call you? Mrs. Future Princess of Konoha?"

She felt her frown deepen. "Fine. Temari it is."

He smirked, leading her to the center of the ballroom. She could feel all the beady stares of the people as they judged her from wherever it was they were standing. Shikamaru seemed just as uncomfortable as she felt, but hid it easily as he bowed. With little choice left, Temari gripped the sides of her gown and curtsied.

The music began with a swell, filling her ears with beautiful music. One large hand took her much smaller one and held it in the air, while another large hand encircled her waist and pulled her closer. She frowned, uncomfortable with the closeness, but much more uncomfortable with the feeling that she didn't actually mind such closeness, and much less with him.

He barely applied any pressure with the hand at her back and his grip was loose with her hand. He moved in time with the music, only a little sloppily, as she followed the beat easily. She might have hated dancing in public but it wasn't like she didn't enjoy it in private, especially since she was actually quite good at it. "I hate dancing."

"You hate everything."

"Much like you."

"Why are you insisting on marrying me?"

"Because I have come to accept the truth that I cannot escape my destiny."

"Yes, you can. You can tell your mother you don't want to marry me."

"But I do."

Temari almost stopped but the music kept her going, making her turn just as he led her.

"You're incredibly stiff," he observed.

"I don't like to be led."

"It's what a man does."

"You're a boy. I'm older than you."

This time, it seemed he no longer held any control as his mouth twitched and the distinct sound of teeth sucking filled the air. "By three years."

"You're a baby."

"And you're a cradle robber. Now that we have that settled."

"I am not going to marry you. I can tell you're a chauvinistic, lazy, incompetent prince."

He frowned just as the hand at her waist pulled her closer and the hand that held hers gripped tighter. "I actually take offense to that, especially coming from an impertinent, selfish, cocky princess like you."

Blood boiled in Temari's veins. She was about to invoke the wrath of a wronged princess. And he was the unfortunate victim.

"You—"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice genuine. She narrowed her eyes, trying to pinpoint the lie she knew was lurking somewhere behind his newly perfect mask of perfect prince. But she could see none, only the face of a bored, albeit obedient, boy. "I don't want to fight. Let's use this as an opportunity to get to know each other better."

"No."

"You have brothers, right? What are their names?"

"Shut and Up."

He sighed, exasperated. "You're not helping."

"I don't intend to."

"Come on, Temari. I just want to make things work. I want to fall in love with you."

"Every time you speak, a little part of me dies. So does a kitten, I'm sure."

"Are you this troublesome to any man that decides to take you as a wife?"

"Not sure, most men give up the moment they realize I'm not going to be the silent, obedient princess they want."

Shikamaru, she noted, looked increasingly distressed. There was panic in his eyes, which she recognized easily because it was often a feeling she invoked in the maids when she caught them in questionable positions with the stable boys or chefs. A slight flush filled his cheeks as he turned them around.

"Are you blushing?"

He coughed. "No. It's the dancing. I hate dancing. And extraneous activities."

"Could pose as a problem on the wedding night."

Finally, the music stopped, and Shikamaru let her go so quickly she wondered if she was actually ridden with disease and he had only just realized it. Of course, that wasn't it, not that she got a chance to question him because the next moment, he was gone in the throng of people who applauded and then circled around her, eager for a closer look at the strange specimen that was the Princess of Suna and future Queen of Konoha.


	7. In Which the Prince Gets to Know

**Chapter VII**  
_In Which the Prince Gets to Know the Girl_

What had made Shikamaru drop Temari's hand like a hot potato was the small, nevertheless astounding fact that he had not felt the familiar sense of guilt that came with lying when he had said, "I want to fall in love with you."

It was far too soon for such a thing. He expected it, really, but he still felt as if it was too early for his subconscious to begin its slow deterioration into insanity and whatever love was. That was how unexpected arrivals in one's life worked, didn't they? He was supposed to fall in love with the vile creature that had arrived on his doorstep as his mail order bride, courtesy of his mother. That was what happened in every romantic comedy. Only this one had his father and manhood dying. Quite possibly at the same time. But things were still moving too fast for the lethargic prince. Especially the death part.

"You're getting married?"

Shikamaru groaned as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder and the conspiratorial whisper of another filled his ears, "That's crazy, you're like, twelve!"

"Kiba, Naruto."

"Neji's here, too!" Naruto didn't even bother to lower his voice. He had no social etiquette whatsoever, much to the chagrin of his parents. Kiba, although almost as socially inept as the blonde whirlwind, was expected to be loud and obnoxious, thanks to the legacy of his forefathers, but matured as he grew older. Now, Kiba knew to whisper most scandalous things instead of scream them.

"Is it a shotgun wedding?" Kiba asked. Chouji had somehow joined the little group of men that had gathered around Shikamaru near the back of the ballroom.

"No. I just met her a week ago."

"It's an arranged marriage, idiot," Naruto said, earning a few glances from nearby nobles.

"She's hot," Kiba noted, glancing over the gathered heads to take a good look at the future Queen. "I mean she's actually smoking."

Naruto nodded. "I can't believe you scored so well without even trying."

"It does not seem as if Shikamaru is pleased," Neji observed, his voice monotone, his gray eyes observant.

"What does he have to be not pleased about? I wouldn't be complaining if she was what I was supposed to be getting married to."

"Seriously. Shika's always just been picky."

"That's your Crown Prince you're talking about so disrespectfully."

"Neji, what stick crawled up your ass? We went to the same school; you can't actually take Shikamaru seriously when he fell asleep in every class."

Shikamaru sighed, taking the opportunity of distraction to sneak away and somehow leave the party. Chouji noticed and nodded, inching aside slowly as Naruto and Kiba berated Neji some more. The two then turned around quickly and walked away as fast as their legs could carry them.

They met up behind one of the large pillars that adorned the room. It was white, just like everything else was, and located at a less frequented area of the ballroom. The only people likely to walk past were rendezvous couples attempting to sneak stolen kisses and the servants.

"It's not working, Chouji," Shikamaru said, facing his large friend and looking for the comfort that came with him.

"Have faith, Ino won't lead you wrong."

"You're just saying that because you love her."

Chouji shuffled uncomfortably, nibbling on a pastry nervously. "That's not true, Shika. You shouldn't say things like that."

It occurred to the prince that Chouji was right; he was angry and distressed and taking it out on the only other friend who wasn't trying to ruin his life or talk about his future wife's looks.

But he couldn't help being angry and distressed. That feeling from earlier had yet to leave the pit of his stomach. It was just sitting there, ruminating, probably growing into an ulcer or a kidney stone. And that spelled out sure trouble in great, bold, very large capital letters.

He wanted to come up with twenty million ideas, but he'd already done that. No, at this point, he could only try to regain his scattered nerves.

Closing his eyes and sliding down against the pillar, he turned his hands and pressed his fingertips together, forming a circle. He took a deep breath and began to measure the seconds between each new one, letting the air slip between parted lips.

"Shikamaru."

"I'm thinking."

"I know. This is important."

"No, it isn't."

"Uchiha Sasuke is here. And he's talking to Temari."

Shikamaru's eyes snapped open. He peered around the pillar and got a good glimpse of the dark haired noble, trailed by his fan club of teenaged girls and unmarried ladies, and the Sunan vision that was to be his wife.

There was a faint blush on the tan girl's face, making her appear as if she were glowing. Her hands were held behind her, and the way she lowered her eyes shyly made Shikamaru aware that Sasuke's charms had not gone unnoticed by his fiancée.

"That son of a—"

It was his duty to protect the honor of the royal family, Shikamaru told himself, as he stalked his way to the two and planted himself beside Temari, causing slight confusion to arise the gathered group of Sasuke worshipers and the actual Sasuke. Temari's eyebrows furrowed together in question as she took a step away from him while he ignored the look she gave him and got closer.

"I see you've met my fiancée," he said to Sasuke, who was glaring at him with the dark eyes that made his family so famous.

"She failed to mention that."

"Did she?" Shikamaru threw her a sidelong glare she returned with equal fervor. "She's shy."

"Doesn't look like it."

"Oh, but she is."

"I don't need you to talk for me," Temari said. Shikamaru took her hand in his and gripped it firmly, making sure that the man before him got a good look at the gesture.

"She's unaware of the customs for Konohanese females."

Sasuke smiled a crooked smile. Shikamaru felt Temari's palms break out into sweat and felt her swoon just a bit.

That cocky little bastard was _not_ going to win. He had already played the strings of Ino's heart and was still toying with the strings that held plenty of others'. He'd be damned to see the bastard play with his wife's.

"And what are these customs?" Temari asked, having recovered from the effect Sasuke's smile had on her.

"You do not speak, let alone walk around without a chaperone."

Temari tried to pull her hand away. "There are hundreds of people around. What's going to happen to me?"

"This is a ball honoring our engagement; you should be walking around with me."

Sasuke glanced between the two. "Should I take my leave?"

"No!"

"Yes."

Temari turned to look at him, "If I shouldn't be walking around without you, why'd you drop my hand as if the touch had burned you, you little twerp?"

"That's terribly foul language for the future mother of my children."

"I am not going to be the mother of any children, let alone yours."

"Do you get your stubbornness from your father's side or your mother's?"

Her mouth opened itself in retort, but nothing came out. She closed it a moment later and grit her teeth, but his eyes were already glued to the fact she was gripping her fists tightly and that her whole body was shaking.

"Suna is in the desert. You have to be stubborn to survive. If you're weak, the winds and sand will move you and you will die. You will be alone and wandering and no one can save you except yourself. I am well aware that I am a woman and that I have little to offer, but I am strong and I will not change, not for you or your people. That is why I am the way I am, and if you can't handle me, then neither can your kingdom, and the best thing for you to do is let me go"

Shikamaru was so shocked by the turn of the conversation that he could only stare at her with wide eyes. Suddenly, the same girl that had been like a vindictive, evil creature had turned herself into the same ethereal goddess he had seen briefly, only now he knew why she had appeared so hard like stone. She had been rubbed away by hollow winds and sandy dunes into what she was now, a warrior princess that had the unfortunate luck to have been born the wrong sex. For the first time since he had met her, he felt as if he understood why she was so against him and everything he stood for.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" her voice cut in, interrupting the epiphany he was so desperate to have.

He coughed, embarrassed. "No reason. Are you hungry?"

"No." Her stomach growled loudly against her claim.

He couldn't help but laugh a little. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat. Fatten you up so my kids will be comfy in there."

"I am not—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." He took her hand, ignoring the wide-eyed stare he got in return and the unsettling whatever-it-was in his stomach. "Just be quiet, and don't attract any attention by harassing me and telling me you hate me. We shouldn't be leaving the ball in the first place."

"Just lead the way."

* * *

"That," Temari said, pressing a hand to her side as she heaved, "was far harder than it should have been."

Shikamaru nodded in agreement. She was absolutely right. But it wasn't his fault. How was he supposed to know that everyone and their mother were looking for the Royal Couple? And how was he supposed to know that Temari's tan skin was so easy to spot under the bright lighting of the grand ballroom?

Somehow, they had sneaked past everyone and made it to the kitchens, which he only knew about because Chouji had often forced him into looking for midnight snacks when they were younger. The chefs were pleased to see him and even more pleased when he revealed to have brought the talked-about princess.

"She's a beauty."

Temari smiled, the corner of her right lip lifting more than the other. "Thank you."

"Looks like the girls in my magazine," the other chef said, taking out a rolled up magazine from the inside of his apron and letting the others see. He smiled lewdly as Temari's smile slipped and the first chef slapped him across the back.

"Put that away, Kotetsu," Shikamaru mumbled, much to Kotetsu's chagrin.

"What have I told you about toting that around on the job?" the other chef asked.

"Leave me alone, Izumo."

Shikamaru watched Temari as she, in turn, watched the two chefs interact. They forgot they had visitors until Temari's stomach, of its own volition, decided to alert them that it was present and in dire need of food.

"Wow, that thing talks," Kotetsu said, staring at what was presumed to be Temari's stomach.

"Just give her some food."

Izumo looked appreciatively at him, nodding. "Look at you, already taking care of your wife."

"I'm not his wife."

"Yet," Shikamaru finished.

As the two chefs set around to make the princess food, he chanced another look at her as she watched the others.

"Did you enjoy your conversation with Uchiha?"

Temari's cheeks flared. "What?" she sputtered.

Shikamaru was positive he was glowering.

"She met the Uchiha? He's as good looking as they come, that little bastard. His whole family is just a mess of good genes and rotten hearts."

"He seemed like a perfectly nice boy," Temari interjected.

Izumo snorted as Kotetsu answered, "Yeah? Ask Shikamaru about Ino and all the other girls."

"Shikamaru?"

He didn't want to answer. It was not his place to divulge dirty, palace secrets, even if they were on the stupid boy he really couldn't stand. He was just waiting for the emotional wreck to fly off the handle in search of his traitorous brother and leave the kingdom forever, and everyone else in peace. But he could already picture the madness that would ensue and the broken hearts that would lie in his wake. And as much as he disliked that kid, he didn't want to see Ino sad.

"He's charming."

"That's not what I'm asking."

Shikamaru glared at her. "Then what are you asking?"

"What has he done?"

"Break hearts."

"Ino's?"

He sighed. "And just about every other girl's."

She shifted in her seat, pulling at her dress. "He didn't look so terrible."

"What, you like him already?"

"No." She stared at him through her eyelashes. "What does it matter to you? Are you jealous?"

He shrugged.

A bowl appeared in front of Temari. "There you go," Kotetsu said. "Eat it while it's hot."

"We'll leave you two alone."

Temari lifted a soup and stirred the contents of her bowl, grinning as she lifted to reveal a mound of soft tofu in frighteningly red soup. "I love this!"

He stared in astonishment as she began to dig in. The dish she ate was one of his least favorites, as it was too spicy for his liking. It was something the chefs made when it was devastatingly cold in the palace, as the spiciness of the soup made sweat form and body temperature rise. Temari was completely okay with this as she continued to eat.

"Is there any rice?" she asked.

He stood and poked around the kitchen, coming upon some rice already made in a very large cooker. He put some in another bowl and handed it to her, watching as she dumped it into her red soup.

"You like spicy food?"

"I suppose. But this is one of my favorite dishes. I love tofu soup."

"It looks… like it can kill."

"It's only a bit of spice." She paused with spoon in midair. "Don't you like spice?"

"Not necessarily."

She shrugged. "You're not very interesting at all. In fact, you grow more boring by the second."

"What are your brothers' names?"

"That again?" She stopped completely, pushing the bowl away just a fraction of an inch and setting the spoon down. "Kankurou and Gaara. I'm the eldest, Kankurou follows, and Gaara is the baby."

"Then wouldn't you be the one in line for the throne?"

"No. Gaara will become King." Temari picked up the spoon again and dipped it into the soup, swirling the tofu around.

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes. That was strange. Although Temari was a woman, she was the firstborn and held every right to become Queen. And even if that weren't the case, the next in line should have been Kankurou, not Gaara.

"Shouldn't it be Kankurou?"

She nodded slowly. "It should be, following the usual rules. But Gaara was made for the position. Literally."

"Do you miss them?"

"Why are you being so nosy? Is this part of your plan about falling in love with me and having me fall in love with you?"

He nodded.

"It sucks."

"What does? The fact that you miss your brothers?"

"No, your plan." She paused again, cocked her head to the side. "And missing my brothers, I suppose."

She was always so eager to disagree with anything he had to say. It was as if she were constantly putting up a fight. But, he supposed, that was exactly what she was used to. He could only imagine what it was like to live in the desert for most of one's life, being trained to never appear weak lest it be your undoing. As princess, she probably had less worries of the physical kind, but that didn't mean she didn't have to train herself mentally. Years of not being good enough had probably hardened her into the stubborn, sarcastic, back-talker she was. It was all self-defense.

He hated that he could read people so easily. And as easily as he could read the foreign princess, he felt as if this only created more vast oceans of the Temari Unknown.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Looking at you? I hadn't even noticed I was."

She stared at him a moment longer, unconvinced, but shrugged it away and went back to her soup.

He didn't want to admit it (really, he didn't; it physically pained him at the very thought of even thinking of admitting whatever it was he was going to admit) but his feelings had turned, just a little, when it came to Temari. He didn't hate her nearly as much as he had a few days before. He didn't want to run her out nearly as badly as he did. And as much as he didn't want to marry her or take over as King, he felt that doing so wouldn't be so bad. He could give her a home. He could give her a throne. He could give her a kingdom and give her things she had never received at home. She wasn't in the desert anymore.

He felt his stomach churn.

He stood up, clenching his stomach, wincing in his pain. How could he even kid himself? Thinking about the sand witch in any different way was making his stomach turn against him, a stomach that rarely protested, simply because it was against its nature (unless it was against boiled eggs; he really hated boiled eggs).

"What's wrong?"

"I want to throw up."

Temari stood, worry crossing her features for only a second before they relaxed back into indifference and slight condescendence. "I know looking at me makes most guys realize just how attractive and out of their league I am—"

He nodded. "Actually, it _was_ thinking that you were pretty that made me feel this way."

She frowned in response, sitting back in her chair. "Well, in that case, you can find the bathroom all by your damn self."

She was just so sweet.

* * *

By the time they returned to the ball, they could already tell they had been sorely missed. Temari had refused to speak another word to him after finding out that thinking she was remotely attractive was what had set his stomach on fire. Shikamaru was perfectly fine with the way things had worked out because by then, he felt that another word with Temari would make him lose his mind and call off the wedding all by himself.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," Ino muttered, taking his arm and pulling him away from his fiancée. "People were up in arms, wondering what the royal couple could be doing alone. This is a scandal."

"We weren't even gone for that long."

Ino did not respond. She was deathly silent, and when Shikamaru turned to her to inquire, found that she was no longer looking at him but was instead focused on Temari and the black haired wonderboy that had garnered everyone else's attention as well.

"I heard your brother was to be the next king of Suna."

Temari's face was completely guarded. "That is none of your business."

Sasuke lifted his shoulders just a bit, as if throwing aside her comment. "My sources tell me that he is an extremely powerful man. Good with the sword."

"And good with a lot of other things. Is he the only thing that concerns you?"

Shikamaru could hear the tiny bit of hope laced in her words, as if she were secretly hoping that perhaps he was only using her brother as an excuse to speak to her. But he could also see the fire in her eyes and the set of her jaw that told him that she did not appreciate the sudden interest in her baby brother.

"Yes."

She curtsied, low, bowing her head and refusing to meet the Uchiha's eyes. "Then that is all we have to say to each other. I believe I should be getting back to my fiancé."

Shikamaru disentangled himself from Ino's arms and reached Temari's side. "My lady."

He could see the disappointment written in her eyes. But a moment later, she was stiff as a board, fully collected.

She was Princess Temari, and she had hardened again, and he wondered whether he'd been hoping that the soup she'd consumed had melted her insides and made her just a bit softer, and what he would have done if it did.

* * *

AN: LOOK HOW FAST I UPDATED. Doesn't this get me extra brownie points? Be a dear and review, thank you! And I just posted up a new story that you should all check out called _When We Met_. See you guys very soon! PROMISE!


	8. In Which the Princess Answers Questions

**Chapter VIII**  
_In Which the Princess Answers Questions_

"I can't stand that little prick," Temari declared.

Shikamaru shook his head towards Ino. "Not in front of Ino."

Temari wanted to punch something—preferably a dark haired, snobby aristocrat who had absolutely no business asking after her brother. "I don't care about Ino's broken heart—"

"I'm right here, you know," the fairer blonde mumbled, not bothering to mask her irritation. "You needn't talk about me as if I can't hear you."

"Get over him," Temari told her. "For your own good."

"I _am_ over him."

"What I don't understand," Shikamaru began, "is why you're so upset about him when just a few hours ago, you were practically glowing after having a conversation with the guy."

A sickening bile rose in Temari's mouth that she tried to swallow down. The truth was, she had been easily swayed by those mysterious dark pools, like the proper girl she was. But there was something about him that made her skin crawl, and after asking about her brother, it was a feeling she couldn't ignore. While Gaara was not her favorite brother (she couldn't pretend that even after all those years a part of her didn't blame him for her mother's death), he was the future of her kingdom, and she would see to it that he made it as king, even if she had to stop the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach when the Uchiha boy turned his eyes on her.

"It doesn't concern you," she finally said.

"I think it does."

"Shikamaru, if she doesn't want to talk about it, you shouldn't press her." Chouji spoke calmly, even if the way he fiddled with his thumbs belied his discomfort.

Temari nodded at the larger boy. "You should listen to your friend."

"Can the two of you stop bickering?" Ino stood from her seat, staring down her nose at them both. "You should go back to your room, Temari. You'll both need as much rest as you can get before tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Temari asked suspiciously. She hadn't liked the sound of that.

Ino shrugged. "There will be a press conference. It was revealed while the two of you were off canoodling or doing whatever it was you were doing. One of the reporters from the Konoha Daily will be here tomorrow to interview you two and demonstrate your compatibility."

"How on earth are they going to do that?" Shikamaru asked, worry overtaking him.

Ino's nose twitched. "How should I know? I'm the poor messenger girl. Your mother was the one who planned all this out."

"Of course she did," Shikamaru grunted.

In the little time Temari had spent in the castle with the crazed royal family, she had come to realize that the Queen was hell bent on making the wedding happen, and would pull every string that appeared to make sure it did. She could see why Shikamaru, and his father for that matter, had turned out the way they did. There was no fighting such a force of nature and winning. It was a suicide mission.

* * *

"You should probably know that the Konoha Daily is the most popular magazine in all of Konoha. It's so popular, it comes out daily."

"That's a lot of work."

Ino shrugged as the two walked down the many corridors of the palace, heading towards the meeting room where the interview would take place. "Well, they use some magic for that, I'm sure."

"Of course."

"I guess you should also know that Anko is the craziest reporter of them all, and she's actually really… peculiar."

Temari eyed Ino suspiciously. "How peculiar?"

Ino looked worried. "You'll see."

"What do you mean?"

"She's going to ask you a lot of questions about Shikamaru, about the two of you, about your kingdom. You can't snap at her or you're risking shedding some rather negative light on yourself and the royal family. You have to pretend you like Shikamaru—it's the only way the people of Konoha will accept you."

They stopped in front of a large door where two guards were standing beside it. The guards bowed their head in greeting before pushing the door open, allowing Temari to step through.

Inside, Shikamaru sat, waiting for Temari to arrive, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his trousers. A strange lady with short, spiky hair stood near him, a toothy grin in place.

"You must be Temari!" the woman greeted.

Temari did not curtsy nor bow her head. "Princess Temari, to you."

"Sure, yeah, okay. Shikamaru was telling me all about you. He seems positively smitten."

"Does he?" Temari smirked at him just as he sucked his teeth and turned away.

"Absolutely."

She gave him a sidelong glance, observing the tiny frown that found its way on his thin lips. She couldn't understand why he always in pain, as if the very effort in being alive was too much trouble for him. A part of her wanted to reach over and slap him into shape, but another part of her wanted to smooth away the lines with her fingertips, run her hands through his hair—

And _then_ slap him into shape.

Anko shrugged at the silence and pointed at the empty seat beside Shikamaru, signaling for Temari to join him. Against her better judgment, the blonde took a seat beside what was supposed to be her future husband, avoiding sitting too close and having their legs touch. No need for such indecent proximity to also make the headlines.

"So, how long have you been engaged?"

They should have probably discussed what was going to be said beforehand, Temari thought bitterly. Shikamaru, on the other hand, was perfectly nonplussed and answered,

"We'd actually like to keep that under wraps, if you don't mind. If we say a year, the people will be outraged at having been kept in the dark. If we say a month, the people will think we are young and rushing things. It is better to keep them guessing and assure them only this: that we are in love."

"Shikamaru, you seem to have grown up a lot since the last time we conducted an interview for the Number One spot as Bachelor of the Kingdom. Do you think Temari has been the reason?"

Shikamaru gave her a sidelong glance of what, to the untrained eye, would appear to be longing and appreciation. Temari, of course, knew better. He was just watching her to make sure she didn't say something that would completely ruin everything.

"Yes. She's changed me for the better."

"And what do you have to say about Shikamaru, Princess?"

She bit the inside of her lip before answering, "Not much."

"So, let's do a little experiment, shall we? I'll give you some questions and you shout out the answer at the same time."

Shikamaru sighed in defeat. "Sure."

"Great!" Anko pulled out a large leather-bound pad and flipped through the sheets. "First question: what is Temari's favorite color?"

"Brown."

"Yellow."

Shikamaru glared at her. "I pegged you as a neutral."

"I live in the dessert. I'm surrounded by neutral colors. I mean, sand _is_ neutral."

Anko cackled. "Fabulous. Okay, next question: Shikamaru's favorite hobby is?"

"Sighing and rolling his eyes."

"Cloud-watching."

Temari turned to look at him, unable to mask her annoyance. "Cloud-watching? Are you serious?"

"I don't just sigh and roll my eyes."

"Really? Because you _just_ rolled your eyes."

He sighed.

"See what I mean?"

The journalist, with her devious smile, wrote furiously. "Alright, next: Temari's perfect date?"

"A day spent judging everyone and pointing out their flaws."

"Walking through a garden."

"A garden? Do you even know what that is?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"I probably shouldn't respond to that."

"I hate you."

"You two are just so adorable!" Anko's smile was growing wider and wider, Temari was sure it would rip her face. "Last one: Shikamaru's type of woman."

"Stick thin and silent."

"Not too pretty and not too ugly, some meat on her bones, and capable of intelligent conversation."

Temari's eyebrows furrowed together quizzically. "Not too pretty and not too ugly?"

He nodded. "I don't want everyone to be so focused on her looks. I just want her to be normal."

"Well, what an interesting answer. Let's move on to some other questions about the wedding. Will it be small or large?"

Shikamaru coughed. "As per Konohanese tradition, we will have two wedding ceremonies. One will be in private, with only our families present, and the second will be a public ceremony."

Temari stared at him. "Public? No way."

He shrugged. "That's how we do it here."

"That's silly. The people have no right to intrude on the private affairs of their royals. They should consider themselves lucky enough to know a marriage is even taking _place_."

Shikamaru cocked his head at her. "Suna is pretty private about… everything, huh?"

She shrugged. "Not with war. Or death. We don't mind privacy then."

"Alright, now Princess Temari, will your family be in attendance?"

Shikamaru waited for her to answer. Unfortunately, Temari hadn't the slightest idea.

She doubted her father would take the time away from doing nothing to attend his only daughter's wedding. Her brothers, while far more caring, would have to seek permission from the demon lord first, and he would probably deny them just to piss her off.

"No."

Anko nodded slowly, jotting the answer down. "The public submitted some questions to ask you, so can I just run through them?"

"Do we have a choice?" Temari asked.

"Not really." And so Anko began. "Great! Now, Temari, this question is for you. Have you ever had a suitor before Prince Shikamaru?"

Temari couldn't help but laugh. "Of course I have. I'm _Princess of Suna_. Men were lining up every single day. There were always these ridiculous tournaments, all of the men trying to 'win' my heart, as if I were a prize or a possession. I'm a woman, not a trophy or a sword."

"You're not a prize or a possession."

She glared at him. "I know."

"Shikamaru, everyone wants to know if you think you're ready to become king. Are you?"

It was silent for a long moment. She couldn't blame him. He was Crown Prince already. He was going to inherit the throne no matter what. But it was a very large responsibility and to be faced with such a task at twenty was probably more frightening than heading into war.

"I am scared," he said finally. "But I love my people, I love my parents, I love my kingdom. If I am to become King, then I will, and I will do everything in my power to be the best king I can possibly be. And not because I have to, but because I want to."

She could see he was going to be a great king.

"Well, I guess I have only one more question," Anko interrupted. "Do you really love each other?"

Shikamaru nodded. "Yes."

The journalist looked expectantly at her. She would be forced to answer, no changing the subject.

"Yes."

"Excellent! The people will be _thrilled_ to read this issue! Thank you, Prince Shikamaru and Princess Temari, for taking the time out of your busy pre-wedding schedules to meet with me and answer all these questions."

Once Anko was escorted out of the room, the two of them sat in silence, only inches separating them physically, but an immeasurable amount of space dividing them mentally. Temari had little knowledge of what Shikamaru was trying to pull, but she knew there was something. Still, it did not stop her from admiring him. He was a good prince, despite all his poor, detracting attributes.

She had no idea why she followed him to his room. He didn't say a word about it as she trailed beside him, easily keeping up with his steps despite his long legs and even longer strides. He hummed quietly to himself, a cheerful tune that went against his laid back disposition.

When he opened his door, both Chouji and Ino were waiting inside, their faces grave. Chouji stood beside Ino, who had taken a seat at the foot of Shikamaru's bed, back straight, stare fixed on the floor. Temari couldn't explain the feeling of dread that crept along the back of her neck suddenly at the sight of them.

"Shika."

Chouji was the one who spoke. Temari hadn't really exchanged any words with the larger of Shikamaru's friends. He appeared to be kindhearted and loyal, so she could bear very little ill will towards him without feeling guilty, but when his kind and chubby face was etched in sadness, she wasn't sure how to feel.

"What is it?" Shikamaru didn't look troubled at all, but Temari knew from the tiny line between his brows that he didn't like what was happening.

"Your father… He looks so ill."

Temari felt her heart stop. Shikamaru froze, his mouth slightly open.

A moment later, Shikamaru recovered enough to sputter, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," Ino accused. "You're lying."

Shikamaru sighed, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. "I can't tell you anything."

"We're your best friends!" Chouji implored.

Temari looked away from the scene. She felt as if she were intruding on some secret, friendly ritual that occurred amongst people who happened to like each other for better intentions than political or material gain. Personally, she had never seen something of the sort, as friends were rare commodities for a princess and more so for one like her. Kankurou and Gaara were the closest things she had to friends—and as dearly as she loved them, she couldn't imagine revealing her weaknesses to them.

Before her, however, was a prince facing not his servants, but his friends, and she was witness to the slow crumbling of the wall that kept them out of his life.

He fell to the ground, his face bowed away from them. Ino was on her knees instantly, wrapping an arm around Shikamaru's gentle frame as Chouji bent forward.

"He's dying." Shikamaru's voice was so raspy Temari struggled to understand him.

"What do you mean?" Ino ran her hands along his arms in an attempt to comfort the suddenly inconsolable prince.

"How?"

Shikamaru shook his head. "I don't—we don't know. He's just… He's been this way for a while. It took all the drugs the court physician had on hand to even get him to appear the way he did tonight."

"Oh, Shikamaru," Ino wailed, burying her head in his neck, sobs wracking her. "I'm so sorry you've been going through this alone."

Chouji nodded, taking Shikamaru's hands in his. "Why didn't you tell us?"

She did not understand why Shikamaru allowed grief to so easily overtake him, crippling him with misery. He was a prince, and a crowned one at that; he had no business allowing weakness to show. That was the job of a royal: to appear strong, even under the most trying of circumstances. The first rule she had learned as princess was to never cry, even if her own mother died.

It had been a good thing the rule had been instilled in her since she turned two.

Temari had had enough.

"Oh, will you stop crying? Death is a natural part of the life cycle. You're acting like a child."

Ino glared at her. "It's his father!"

"He's not dead yet."

"But he will be!"

"It happens!" She turned to see Shikamaru glaring at her with narrowed eyes swollen red. "You would do well to remember who you are. You're a prince. You can't save everyone. You aren't meant to. The only thing you can do is be strong and do whatever it is you have to do to ensure the safety and prosperity of your kingdom. Aren't you supposed to be a man? Stop being a crybaby. It's sickening."

"You have no right to speak to him that way!" Chouji straightened to his full height. "He is your prince."

"He is no prince; he is just a scared little boy who doesn't want to lose his daddy."

"But it's his father!" Ino repeated.

"One cannot shed tears every time something goes wrong!"

"You-!"

"She's right," Shikamaru interrupted, putting a hand up to stop Ino's tirade and Chouji's attack. "She's absolutely right."

"She doesn't have to say it like that," Chouji said, staring at her darkly.

She rolled her eyes. "He should act like a grown man, if that's what he is. Crying is not the answer."

Ino was livid. She opened her mouth to retort but Shikamaru's hand wrapped around her arm. She pouted and glanced at Chouji. "Let's go," she ordered, and she stalked out of Shikamaru's room, Chouji closely following behind her.

Temari did not say a word. There was little she could say, anyway, especially after that. She had tried to tell herself not to interrupt the friends' moment, but it had become ridiculous, watching the sap cry the way he did, so freely and open in front of his _servants_—

"Is your mother dead?"

She looked at him. "Yes. How did you guess?"

"You haven't spoken about her. How old were you?"

"Three."

Although his face barely changed to reflect his moods, she could see the shock written so clearly in the dark of his eyes. "You were so young. You didn't cry?"

"No."

"But she was your mother—"

She sighed, exasperated. "It doesn't matter whether she was my mother or a handmaiden. You should never cry so easily. It is an obvious sign of weakness."

He nodded although he hid his face from her. "I'll take you to your room."

When she was alone in her room, the door closed safely behind her, Shikamaru on the other side, Temari allowed herself to fall unbidden on her bed, with a strange lump in her throat. Conflicting feelings bubbled inside her, threatening to explode out of her mouth and erupt like a volcano, burning everything in its path. She was angry at her situation, furious at the punk that had tried asking about her brother, and wracked with an enormous sense of sympathy for the boy who was so close to losing his father and unable to do a thing.

She felt as if she were back to that day she was only three years old, watching her screaming mother hold a squirming belly as blood seemed to pour out of her endlessly. No one had noticed the eldest daughter of the Subaku family had remained in the royal chambers to witness the birth of her youngest brother, and by the time she was discovered hiding behind the red curtains, it was too late. Her mother had died.

And the baby in her father's arms, his hair as red as the blood that stained him and the once-white sheets, was to blame.

Shaking herself away from the memories, she wondered faintly if crying truly was as terrible as it had been made out to be. Perhaps there was strength in allowing such a vulnerability show. Perhaps tears were a testament to the pain and suffering one could withstand.

Maybe Shikamaru was better than her in more ways than one.


	9. In Which the Prince Shows his World

**Chapter IX**  
_In Which the Prince Shows his World_

"What are we supposed to be doing today?" Temari asked.

"Greeting the people. Making our rounds. Showing your face."

She threw her hair back, a mischievous smile fitting neatly on her lips. "Are you sure that's a good thing? My face has been known to stop men in their wake." As if to prove her point, she cast a stable boy a flirtatious grin, stopping the young man dead in his tracks, probably causing him an aneurism.

Shikamaru was not impressed. Actually, that was a lie. He was extremely impressed, only he knew better than to express such a feeling out loud. Instead, he said, "I'd cut the vanity. It's not a good look on you. Besides, my people have seen far uglier things than you. They won't be surprised"

She scowled. "You're unpleasant."

"And you're a joy to be around," he replied sarcastically.

"I don't know what your problem is—"

"Are you sure, Temari?" She was invading his thoughts, even in private—

_This is ridiculous,_ he said to himself.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't say a single nice thing to you. There is absolutely no pleasing you. You're—" He stopped, unsure of how to continue. There was no good way to describe her. She was so problematic, so—

"What?" she dared. "Go on, finish what you were going to say."

"You're _troublesome_."

Her eyes were wide. "Troublesome? Really? Is that the best you can do?"

"I'm tired of arguing with you." He watched for the carriage to arrive, dreading the trip into town that was soon to begin.

* * *

"Troublesome," she mumbled. "Pathetic."

"We're nearing the town," he said, careful to keep his voice level and monotone. "At least pretend like you can bear me."

"Impossible. I can't stand you."

"Well, you're going to have to pretend. And if I remember a certain fainting incident correctly, you're a great actress."

The townspeople were already spilling out from homes, businesses, and every other corner and crevice of the town. Noblemen, commoners, farmers, artisans; they all filled the streets of Konoha, coloring the sidewalks with every shade in existance. Seeing his people like this made Shikamaru all that much more aware of his impending duties, tasks, and responsibilities he held not only as Crown Prince but also as future King.

Was running away the answer?

He was trying so desperately to ruin the marriage in any way he could, he had forgotten why it had been arranged in the first place. At first, he thought he understood, but as he looked closer into the faces of the expectant public he realized he'd been somewhat wrong in his assumptions.

The marriage wasn't his mother's ploy to get him to start taking initiative. It wasn't to be a model for the rest of the kingdom. It was to reassure his people that so long as he was alive and the family line was kept alive, all would be well. By marrying a princess from another nation, he was creating a contract that kept that country from invading. He was creating an ally, a sister-kingdom that would help in times of need. If Konoha were to be invaded, where would his people go? Who would bother in aiding them?

At this, he chanced to take a peek at Temar.

She wore a brilliant smile that, had it been genuine, would have melted everyone to the core. Her hand was raised in a wave, small and delicate, like a proper princess's. She nodded occasionally to whoever would bow deeply or exclaim in rejoice.

She was good.

"What's wrong?"

She was surprised by the question. Her smile fell as she answered, "What?"

"I can tell something is wrong."

She scoffed, "You can tell nothing of the sort."

"What happened? You were all rude just a moment ago."

She prepared herself for a retort, but a moment later let her hand return to her side. "I miss my people," she admitted softly.

Shikamaru could not help it when his heart ached at the words. He could not imagine being away from home, ordered to spend the rest of his days in a palace that was not his own, with people that were not his own. He understood, even if he didn't want to.

"I know."

"No," she spat, "you don't. You don't know at all. And you never will, because _I'm_ the one who has to marry _you_."

"I know."

"Stop pretending like you care."

He looked away from her. "I am not pretending."

He heard the disbelief in her next words. "All we seem to do is disagree. Do you really have hope for our falling in love?"

"You're the one who is constantly disagreeing with me."

"Well, you're the one who is constantly saying stupid things. I merely state facts."

"As do I."

"You're lying."

"See what I mean?"

"You're an idiot."

"Naturally."

"I was meaning to ask you something."

"What?"

"Do you always cry when something doesn't go your way?"

He was not expecting that at all. "Excuse me?"

She had no qualms with scrutinizing him carefully. "Is it that easy to make you cry?"

Temari fought back using her greatest tool: her tongue. If he hadn't realized it before, it took only that moment to assure him that she would never surrender. That she was truly a princess, trained from the very beginning to never accept defeat. But he had been trained similarly, and while he could not fight her physically, he knew his own words were capable of brining a man down. Even if such a man was a fierce, "Is it that easy to pretend you feel nothing at all? Have you been so irreversibly damaged by your kingdom that you cannot shed a tear even though you are thousands of miles away from your home and the sadness is all-consuming?"

"You—"

"We can both play at this game."

Her nostrils flared for a second before she sighed, defeated. "Fine."

He smiled. "Not too hard, right, agreeing?"

"My insides are turning against each other because this is so contrary to my character and personality."

"Does it really hurt you to be somewhat nice?"

She nodded. "It's true. I have a terrible tendency to overlord those weaker than me."

Suddenly, he was struck with an idea. He could take her to his favorite place in the entire kingdom, where they would be alone. Maybe that was why it was so difficult to get her to fall in love with him—love sprouted in moments spent in private with the other person. At least, that's what the logical part of his mind said. And is all else failed at least he had an opportunity to make her stop talking, since the activity he intended to pursue required peace and quiet.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Where?" she asked suspiciously.

He stood up to speak to the driver, directing the man with a pointed finger beyond the horizon. "The hill, please."

"Of course, Your Highness."

The ride was quiet, mostly because when Temari asked once again about their destination, Shikamaru ignored her and sat in silence, observing the passing trees. When they reached the hill, the carriage slowed and stopped, the driver stepping off to help Temari out of the carriage.

"Where is this?"

"Outskirts of town," Shikamaru replied, reaching into the carriage for a blanket and waiting for her to reach his side of the carriage. Taking her hand and, much against her will, dragged her along as he walked briskly up the hill. She trudged trudged, kicking up dirt, muttering about grass and its unnatural greenness, but when he stopped at the top of the hill to stare at the world around him, she was speechless.

The hill was green. The trees were green. Just about everything was so green it could make anyone sick. But it was beautiful. The wind rolled by and caused the blades of grass to flutter, branches to sway, flowers of every color in the world to tilt back and forth. He spied a deer hiding behind a cluster of trees, staring at them curiously but finding them uninteresting and continuing on with his meal.

"Wow," Temari breathed.

Shikamaru hummed, pleased. He took a seat on the ground and looked up. "Sit." He began to spread the blanket but she pushed it aside and took her place beside him on the grass.

"I don't need to be pampered."

He shook off the momentary awe and leaned onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head. He felt her follow suit and then silence filled the air; beautiful, welcoming silence.

The clouds were great today. They were fluffy and big and white, not a chance of a storm in sight. The sky was an incredible blanket of blue, a blue so clear it was almost blinding.

"You're different."

It came out suddenly. He had no idea where it had come from, but when the words were in the air, he couldn't take them back. Temari stirred beside him, grass rustling, and then her voice.

"What do you mean?"

He couldn't turn his head to look at her so he watched the clouds go by instead. There was a rather large one that looked like a very big bear. "I mean I don't know what to make of you. Women in general are confusing creatures—"

"Only because you can't wrap your mind around our greatness."

"—And all you do is constantly interrupt me or try to prove me wrong. But you're different. Ino would never sit on the grass."

"Tragic." If he hadn't known better, he would have said her voice sounded strain, as if she were jealous at the mention of Ino. But he did know better, and he was sure it was impossible for the princess to feel even an ounce of jealousy.

"I guess."

"You're being odd. You hardly ever exchange more than a few words at a time with me—or anyone, from what I've seen."

He shrugged. She was right. Hardly ever did he try to speak for the hell of it. That's why his mother couldn't stand him; he was the very copy of his father, even down to the contrariness of his speech, unwilling to waste breath and time when it could be spent doing something else, like watching clouds or sleeping.

But with Temari, things were different. He felt it deep in his bones. He was sure that if he pulled out a chess game, she'd only shrug and take a seat on the other side and attempt to beat him, just to say she did. She was incredibly intelligent, outspoken, strong. She was everything he couldn't stand in a woman, but there she was, beside him, his fiancée.

"It's different with you," he finally said.

"Of course it is." She sounded rather pleased with herself. He could practically hear the smile in her voice, the satisfaction dripping from her words.

"And I know that even if it kills you to admit it, it's different for you with me."

She said nothing for a long time and then, "If this is part of your plan, please stop."

"What?"

"I'm not going to fall in love with you and I'm not going to marry you. So stop trying."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "I know. And this wasn't part of my plan. I just wanted to show you what I like to do all day. Watch the clouds and enjoy the quiet."

So they did just that. They lay in silence, side-by-side, so close that if he moved his arm it would brush against hers. Clouds inched past them in waves, and after a porcupine, a baby, and a fox in cloud forms went by, they quietly pointed out all the familiar shapes they could see, and even ones they couldn't.


	10. In Which the Princess Breaks her

**Chapter X  
**_In Which the Princess Breaks her-_

Ino got better, which was unfortunate for Temari, but not so much for the actual sickly girl. She'd come down with something that had the royal family and her parents a little edgier than usual, as the symptoms started much like the King's had. But when she was fully recovered and allowed to see daylight again it was quickly announced that a chill had wracked the pretty girl, and nothing else.

"Don't look so sullen," Ino pointed out, sliding _Konoha, A History_ across the table towards Temari. "Even if I had been bedridden for longer, the Queen would have found someone else to tutor you."

"I'd probably have a better chance in making them quit."

It was much against Temari's better judgment that she admitted that Ino was actually not so bad. Sure, there were times that she inexplicably wanted to beat the girl's face into the ground due to her unnaturally good looks, but most of the time, Ino was more than just barely tolerable. Perhaps it was the constant companionship that Temari was now beginning to rely on, or perhaps it was because she had seen the camaraderie between the blonde and her prince and was shocked into realizing that friendship was a powerful thing. Or perhaps it was all because Temari simply liked the girl, despite the reasons she had not to.

In that moment that she admitted it, while Ino began to dictate all the ways to be a proper princess, Temari had a compelling nerve to talk to the blonde about Shikamaru. It had been days since the afternoon spent on the grassy knolls of Konoha, but an unsettling tingle had taken over her heart since then, and any mere mention of Shikamaru brought the feeling back full strength, causing the Princess much distress.

Temari did not know about unsettling tingles or the fluttering that occurred in her stomach when she saw Shikamaru. She'd never experienced something like it, and while at first she had been quick to label it "intense hatred," she was starting to doubt it very much. The truth was, she enjoyed speaking to Shikamaru. Arguing with him became the highlight of her day. The mental scoreboard she kept of their exchanges made her carefully analyze the conversations she held with him to figure out where they stood. Often times, they were neck-to-neck, the winner barely victorious by a point.

"You know," Ino said suddenly, stopping mid-tirade about royal females giving birth in front of those in Court to make sure the baby was not switched after birth. "You and Shikamaru are very similar."

"What?" Temari couldn't be bothered to mask the astonishment in her voice. That had been quite out of nowhere.

"There's no doubt you two are beyond different, but surprisingly enough, you are so alike."

"Explain."

"I don't know. He might be extremely lazy and nonchalant and rude, but he's incredibly intelligent. And you, despite being obnoxious, loud, and arrogant, are also incredibly intelligent. You've both got analytical minds. I don't know what it is, but when I see you two together, I can't help but think that you'd be so—"

There was a curt knock on the door, interrupting Ino mid-sentence, allowing Temari a moment to release a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Without waiting for permission to enter, the door opened. Shikamaru stood on the other side with his hand still on the doorknob even as he took a few steps in. He looked as if he'd stumbled into Temari's room completely involuntarily and against his will but there was no Queen standing behind him with a sword to his neck.

He nodded in greeting. Ino smiled warmly and stood before bowing deeply. It was the first time Temari had ever seen the girl greet her Prince properly.

"You can go, Ino."

The smile slipped from Ino's perfect face, replaced by a frown Temari recognized as the one she wore when she was particularly annoyed at something.

Ino gave him a slight nod. "Your highness," she said. Mumbling her way out of the room, Temari overheard, "They should just get married."

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Shikamaru alone in the room with her.

Suddenly, she felt sweat begin to form in the palm of her hands, a dreadful feeling creeping under her skin, into her bones, and settling in the pit of her stomach like a heavy stone. It was such a strange thing, unknown to her, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was something called nervousness.

Preposterous. It was just Shikamaru, alone in a room with her, a chess set in his hands. There was very little reason to be nervous, especially with Shikamaru.

He neared her desk. He placed the board in front of her and offered her a half-hearted smile. "Want to play?"

Her throat closed up momentarily, forcing her to cough through the obstruction. "I should be studying. Gaining knowledge on how to be the perfect princess."

Shikamaru shrugged and took Ino's empty seat. "You're already a princess. There is little anyone can teach you about that. It's something you're born with, right?"

Temari couldn't help it when her eyes narrowed and her analytical mind began to dissect his words and tone of voice. "What's gotten into you?"

He looked genuinely surprised at that. "Huh?"

"You're acting weird. You're agreeing with me."

He frowned, setting up the pieces slowly. "No, you're acting weird. Do you know how to play?"

"Of course I know how to play. How am I acting weird?" She reached over, careful to keep from accidentally touching his hand as she picked up the white pieces and began to set her side of the board.

"I was just asking. And you just are. Look, you're shaking."

She ignored his claim but paid closer attention to her hands, which were, indeed, shaking just a bit. "Why did you want to play chess with me?"

"Honestly? Because my father always beats me, and no one else in this palace is a challenge. I figured you, out of everyone, would stand against me the longest."

Temari paused to glance at him. "Are you that good or is everyone else that bad?"

He smirked. "I don't want to sound cocky—"

"I've heard enough; don't even finish."

"—But I'm pretty damn good. And I think you'd be pretty damn good, so I want to play you."

For some odd reason, Temari had the greatest urge to smile. Those words, as presumptuous as they were, made the weight in her belly lift just a bit, warmth spreading through her limbs and making her feel lightheaded and happy.

Somehow, she had finished putting the pieces in their proper places and made a move. Shikamaru took it as the start of the game and made his move as well, watching her with a gentle smile on his face.

"Why on earth are you looking at me like that?" Her voice was harsher than she intended it to sound. She moved a piece without thinking.

"I wasn't even aware I was looking at you." He studied the board and made a move.

"Well, you are. And you can stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Staring at me."

He averted his eyes, concentrating instead on the game before them. When Temari looked down in an attempt to distract herself, she was surprised to find that she was suffering major losses and that Shikamaru was quickly gaining advantage and would soon beat her.

"I came here for a reason."

"Naturally." The stone in her stomach suddenly became twice as heavy. Disappointment quickly wrapped itself around her. She moved a piece without thinking and winced slightly as Shikamaru pelted it aside with his own piece.

"Will you spend the day with me?"

Temari gasped—and then hid the gesture by slamming her hand down and disturbing some of the pieces on the board. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I've been thinking that I haven't exactly showed you much kindness, and as your future husband, I should."

"Well, don't."

"Won't you simply accept the gesture?"

She didn't want to. Temari was far from a stupid girl and she could instantly tell that something in the air had changed around them. Something was different and she couldn't place what it was, only that it made her heart feel as if it had been shocked by a bolt of lightening, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, made her eyes follow every one of Shikamaru's distinct moves. If she sat there and let the good-for-nothing Prince shower her with gentle words, she knew that her heart would sway. She'd never been showed any sort of sweet acts of kindness before, and to have them bestowed upon her would make her vulnerable.

And she couldn't be vulnerable.

But when she looked up to deny Shikamaru, to let out snide remarks, they stuck in her throat. She was drowning in he depths of his eyes.

"What would we do?"

"I've invited my friends to the palace. I want them to meet you. I want you to get to know me."

"I know enough about you, and let me say: not very impressive." Her hands were shaking as she placed them in her lap, away from his eyes. She was lying through her teeth, which frightened her beyond all measures.

When had Shikamaru gone from nuisance and unimpressive to kind and more-than-slightly impressive? When had her opinion of him done a complete 360?

_The clouds_, she thought to herself. _There was something in the grass, there just had to be_.

"Good," he said lightly. He moved his queen and smiled at her. "Checkmate."

When he left, Temari had a gnawing feeling that his last words had been about more than just the game.

* * *

Temari stood outside of the room, the voices within loud enough for her to hear. She felt a sense of dread begin to well up inside her, threatening to drown her. She knew this was a test—if she failed to get even Shikamaru's friends to like her, then she would undoubtedly fail in getting the nation to approve of her. A tiny part of her knew her chances of getting out of the marriage were slowly disappearing, and an even smaller part of her knew that she didn't mind nearly so much in living the rest of her days in the Palace of Konoha. But she knew all about beheaded queens and coups d'etat, and she had no desire in becoming one of those stories.

She was just about to head inside, her hand on the golden doorknob, when she heard a sound behind her. Turning her head, she felt her heart stop mid-beat as she recognized the person.

"I didn't imagine I would find you out here."

Temari let go of the doorknob. "Lord Sasuke." She did not bow.

He took the insult with a small smile as he bowed his head in turn. "Princess Temari."

"I didn't think you would be invited."

He laughed. "This is purely political, as you must have noticed. This isn't a fun little gathering—we're here to make our minds up about you."

The more he spoke, the more she disliked him. It was something about his eyes, the sound of his voice, the way he seemed to care about nothing except himself. She wanted to kick him and stalk away, but she was frozen in place, as if fear were pinning her to the ground.

"I'm sorry, have I insulted you?" his voice was mocking, sarcasm dripping from the tips of his teeth as his smile widened.

"No, I fear I may have insulted you. But if you'll excuse me—"

He moved quickly, grabbing her arm and wrenching her away from the door. "No, I would enjoy your company even more. Take a walk with me."

She stiffened immediately, even as he dragged her with a force she couldn't have ever imagined in a human. She wrenched her arm away, only half succeeding, and came to a stop.

"Let me go."

His grip on her arm tightened. "I insist you take a walk with me."

"You are being too forward in my own home."

"Home?" He laughed, the sound grating, like Ino's long nails dragging along a blackboard. "This is not your home. You were practically sold to this family, your dowry to come in soon. You're just a tool—"

Anger bubbled inside her. "Let me go," she said again.

"How would the public react, finding the future queen in a compromising position with a noble's son?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"This is where you're wrong, my Queen." He pulled her harder, into a room she had never noticed before. The only light flickering in the hallway suddenly disappeared as Sasuke closed the door, making everything go dark.

"What are you doing?" Fear threatened to creep into her voice but Temari would never allow it. She was strong and nothing could break her. Not even some twisted boy like Sasuke.

"My family… we've spent so long in the shadows of this silly kingdom, of this silly king. Of course, when my father found out the King had turned ill—that was when we realized it would be the perfect time to strike. And then you waltzed into the palace, the perfect bait. Everything depends on you, you see. You _must_ get married to the Prince, you _must_ be accepted by the kingdom. But when everyone has found out about your indiscretion—"

"I may seem like a damsel in distress," Temari interrupted, spurred on by fright and desperation, "but I could probably crush you. My thigh is probably as big as your whole body."

Suddenly, she was thrust against a wall, her hands pinned above her, a warm body keeping her still.

"We'll get to that soon enough," Sasuke said. She felt his mouth near her ear, warm breath stirring her hair. "I assure you, I don't do this for pleasure. I am merely doing what I must for my family."

"Get the hell off me!"

"It will only be a moment."

She squirmed. Never before had she felt so weak. She'd been so proud of her strength back in Suna, beating so many of the noblemen's sons at sparring and dueling, until her father told her a princess could not act that way and forbid her from ever venturing to the training grounds.

No. This was not going to happen.

She tried to fight him off. She lifted her knee with all the force she had, slamming it into his groin. Sasuke tumbled back, howling in pain. A moment later, he was reaching forward again, grasping her hand, pulling her forward. She kicked blindly, hoping to find a bit of him in the dark, hoping to hurt him enough that she could find the door and get out—

The door opened. Light flooded the room. Sasuke kneeled on the ground; one hand was holding his groin while the other was wrapped tightly around her hand, bruising her wrist. He glared at her, eyes flashing red.

"Let her go."

Never had Temari been so glad to hear such a voice. It was welcoming; warmth filled her, threatening to spill out from her eyes. She wanted to melt to the ground from gratitude and relief.

Shikamaru was there.

But Sasuke did not let go.

It happened in one short moment. She pulled at her hand and felt her wrist break; there was a howl that she was sure did not rip out of her own throat; she felt an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the room; and then the pressure of someone pushing her into a chair, making her take a seat as she cradled her hand and felt pain begin to pulse through her entire body.

"Are you okay?"

Shikamaru's voice sounded so concerned. Temari let her eyes focus on everything around her. She found herself in the kitchens, on a stool, a worried Shikamaru staring at her and holding her hand.

"No," she said. "My wrist is broken."

"Is that it?"

She scowled, mostly from the pain. She was very tempted to scream. "Yes, that's it. Isn't that bad enough?"

He sighed, his other hand reaching for her free, unbroken one, and gripping it tightly. "Thank goodness. I thought he'd done something to you."

"He _did_. He broke my wrist!"

He laughed. She swore she saw his eyes glistening, as if about to cry; but when he blinked it was gone.

"I'm so glad."

"Well, don't just hold my hand. Do something."

Shikamaru nodded, letting go of her good hand, and held the other so delicately, as if he was afraid he'd hurt her even more. The sheer gentleness of it made the pain lessen just a bit.

But the knot in her throat only grew until she had to hide her face away from him.

"I didn't imagine this happening when I invited everyone here."

She nodded, unsure she could speak.

"I'm sorry, Temari."

"It isn't your fault."

"I'm sorry all the same." She felt him mending her wrist, setting it straight without warning, making her wince and bite her tongue to keep from crying out. When he finished wrapping it, he laid it on her lap and helped smooth out the wrinkles of her dress. "I promise never to let something hurt you again."

"You sound awfully romantic."

"I mean it."

She didn't like how serious he sounded. She didn't like the way her heart began to pound in her chest and her blood began to thrum in her veins. She didn't like that she liked the possibilities that came with his words. So she said, "Do you want to marry me now or something?"

She felt his hand under her chin, forcing her to turn to look at him. His eyes were half-lidded, gentle, staring at her with such genuine tenderness that she felt she had to look away but found she couldn't.

"I do."

* * *

**AN:** I've been trying really hard to post more often. Please review so I know my efforts are not in vain. Besides, reviews feed my ego and make me feel like I'm appreciated, and since I'm human, I thrive off of love and appreciation and stuff.

So yeah. Review. PLEASE!

Don't I just seem desperate?


	11. In Which the Prince Removes his Pants

**Chapter XI**_  
In Which the Prince Removes his Pants_

Shikamaru wasn't given a moment to gather his thoughts (as they had sped out of control with the strong urge to _punch that little—_) as Temari took his arm and grabbed his hand.

Sweat had gathered on her brow, probably from the pain of her wrist, making her look sickly and unwell. Her lips had drained of color, contrasting sharply with the tan glow of her skin.

"Promise you won't mention this," she demanded.

He was taken aback. In the few seconds after he'd finished mending her hand, he half-expected her to leap up, scream bloody murder, and chase off after Sasuke in an attack of spiteful justice. It came as a surprise to see her so complacent, sitting perfectly still, not even shaking from anger.

"He just broke your hand," Shikamaru argued. "Shouldn't you be angrier?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fuming," she assured him, though the words were shaky and tinged with the hint of pain. "But… he brought up a good point."

Silence. He waited for her to continue but found her mouth had pursed into a thin line. As the seconds grew longer and she still said nothing, he felt his anger boil. "What did he say?"

Shikamaru never believed Temari capable of feeling uncomfortable, but that is exactly what she looked like as she refused to meet his eyes. "Whether or not he attacked me is irrelevant. I am the stranger here. The people will be more eager to believe an Uchiha and Konohanese noble than a foreign princess whose morals are questionable simply because of her culture."

"That's not the point—"

Her brows drew together in frustration as she finally looked at him. "But it is, Shikamaru!"

The effect was immediate. He couldn't understand the meaning of her words; he was aware only that she had said his name. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end; electrifying shivers ran down his spine to the ends of his toes. He swore he felt his heart melt as the last syllable fell from her mouth and into his ears. Suddenly, the world had gone still and in that small, miniscule moment, everything was well and there was no Sasuke and no broken wrist, just the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon and the distinctive way his name sounded like a prayer on her lips.

Of course, as Life often works out, the moment was gone, and he felt her nails digging into his skin, begging for attention.

"I want to hurt him so badly," she muttered darkly, her face drawn in anger, "but there is nothing I can do. He has power. If you were to argue my case… you'll appear a manipulated, smitten teenaged boy who was seduced by the evil, conniving Sunan princess."

"Then how are we to explain your wrist?" he asked pointedly, gesturing grandly at the hand gathered limply in her lap. "Say you fell down the stairs?" He couldn't help the sarcasm laced in the words.

She shrugged, seemingly uncaring. "Sure. That's plausible. People break their wrists from falling down flights of stairs all the time, don't they?"

He slammed his hand on the table, rattling the few bowls the cooks had left behind. "I just want to—"

Temari's good hand grabbed his chin and pulled his face close to hers—so close he could feel the air she expelled from her nose. "Oh, let it go. Even if you went out there right now, you wouldn't be able to do a thing!"

"It's better than sitting here and pretending it didn't happen," he shot back.

"Just let it go. He won't try anything for a while. There is no reason why this should bother you so much." Her grip loosened. Her fingertips pressed lightly against his skin while sweat broke out on his palms (whether from anger or something else, he had no idea).

That was when he knew.

He had lost. Completely and utterly, without even much of a fight, he had lost entirely to the exotic woman before him, whose hands were surprisingly soft on his skin and who needed only to say his name to turn him to putty.

"You need to understand," she continued, "that as _much_ as I would like to leave this place and not have to get married, I don't have any desire in being a part of a plot in bringing about the end to this kingdom."

A tiny part of him ached at the words 'not have to get married,' but he tried to pay no mind to it; which proved surprisingly easy considering he was more upset about her broken wrist and the cretin who'd done it.

She continued, his short distraction gone unnoticed, "And that is what would happen if you were to let yourself be blinded," she glanced at her broken wrist, "by this." The words sounded so matter-of-factly, so out of place in her vocabulary that he wanted to shake her and snap her out of it.

Instead, he said, "This? I'm angry that he hurt you."

She rolled her eyes and leaned away from him. "It's just a broken wrist."

Clearly, she did not understand.

And Shikamaru was not sure he could _make_ her understand.

He did not try to reason with her. He could barely reason with himself (or begin to try and figure out whatever it was he was feeling) that he couldn't be expected to try to talk Temari out of whatever nonsense the idiot had fed to her. So he took her good arm and helped her out of her chair, ignoring the strange look he got in return, and escorted her back to her room.

"You should sleep," he told her as she stood awkwardly by the doorframe, holding the wooden door ajar with her shoulder.

She nodded her head. "Yes, I suppose I should…"

He turned to leave but her voice stopped him.

"Wait!"

Shikamaru looked over his shoulder to see her, uncommonly vulnerable beneath the flickering lamplight of her room, her dress slightly rumpled but otherwise flawless. She was still somewhat pale, her lips chapped, her hair a messy mass above her face—but he'd never witnessed her looking more beautiful.

"Thank you," she said gruffly, avoiding his eyes. She looked as if she were in pain for saying the words. "For… everything."

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "Of course."

She shrugged and moved away, letting the door shut with a soft thud.

Now he had to figure out what to do with that Uchiha.

* * *

He didn't have time to figure out what to do with that Uchiha.

Temari burst into his chambers a few days later, clad in questionable attire (as usual), and wearing a very worried expression.

"You're not going to like this," she said when she reached him, holding out a folded piece of parchment.

Shikamaru looked at it questionably before meeting her eyes. "What is it?"

"A letter."

Obviously. He felt his heart drop a little into his stomach when he caught sight of the Royal Sunan Family seal on the front. "From your father?"

"Worse."

Impossible. No one was worse than _fathers_. That much he knew from watching Ino's father claim death to any man who even thought of his daughter inappropriately.

"I don't—" he began.

"From my _brothers_," she explained. And then she opened the letter and held it out for him to read.

_Temari,_

_We have been informed that an Incident has occurred and that you have been injured. We shall be on our way to Konoha in a matter of hours to make sure that you are well. _

_Gaara & Kankurou_

_P.S. If I find out it was that kid you're marrying, I'm going to kill him. –Kankurou_

_P.P.S. He means it. –Gaara_

_P.P.P.S. Gaara said he'd tear him apart, limb by limb. –Kankurou_

_P.P.P.P.S. Stop adding things to this letter. And I never said such a thing. Do not make up lies. –Gaara_

_P.P.P.P.P.S. Yes, you did! -Kankurou_

_P.P.P.P.P.P.S. No. –Gaara_

_P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Whatever. I'll break his little neck. (So will Gaara.) –Kankurou_

_P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I have never mentioned taking any violent actions. (Although, if I must, I will.) –Gaara_

Not many things scared Shikamaru. Not spiders or trolls or goblins or enchanting mermaids that sold kidneys in the Black Magical Market or even the weird, creepy Orochimaru wizard.

But Temari's brothers had terrified him to an utmost degree where he knew that if he had been wearing boots, he would most definitely be shaking them.

"When are they coming?"

Temari was exasperated. "Look at the date," she said, shaking the parchment before his face.

And so he checked.

And realized the letter had been written three days before.

And calculated the distance from Suna to Konoha to take approximately three days.

And knew that Temari's fearsome brothers were only a day, if not hours, away from arriving to the palace and murdering him for Temari's broken wrist.

And then,

"Wait, do you have a _spy_ here?"

Temari scowled, "I would _not_ have a spy here. I don't need my father to be aware of every move I make."

"Then how would they know? Did you tell them?"

"Are you calling me a snitch?"

He shook his head. "No! I'm just—this is—how would they know?"

The blonde princess was just as perplexed as him. She took a seat on his bed, unmindful of wrinkling her skirts, and regarded the letter with frightening intensity, as if she meant to read right through it and figure out everything merely by staring at the piece of yellow parchment.

"I haven't the slightest idea," she finally declared.

"Who could it be?"

In a matter of seconds, Shikamaru ran down a list of all possible suspects.

Only it was an extremely short list with hardly a single person on it.

The better question, then, became: Who would benefit from telling the Sunan Royal Family of Temari's misfortune and, even more concerning, who would know of the Incident?

His parents knew because, as it was, they were the King and Queen of the Palace and had eyes and ears in every conceivable place (except the closet where the bastard had tried to do what he had tried to do). Chouji knew because he was his best friend. Ino knew because Chouji was in love with her and would tell her anything and because she had been tutoring Temari.

And because Ino knew, that meant the rest of the Konohanese court knew as well.

Suddenly, Shikamaru's list became a mile long which made his head hurt, partly because there were a lot of names and partly because he had come up with the names in only a few seconds.

Temari didn't seem to care about his list, or the names, or, for that matter, who could have been the mystery informer. "I don't think that matters. If I may gently remind you, my brothers are coming and we must come up with a very, very, _very _good reason as to why I have a broken wrist." She paused to give the letter another glance. "_Very_."

"Would they really hurt me?"

"Honestly?"

He nodded.

"Yes."

That was wonderful.

The girl on his bed didn't look very happy with the way events were turning out, either. Only she didn't have to worry about her death by the hands of two overprotective brothers.

It wasn't like _he_ had broken her wrist. Perhaps indirectly, seeing as he had invited the Uchiha to the party, therefore allowing the man to enter the Palace and attempt to—no. Those weren't good thoughts to think.

He had to figure out what to do with the brothers. He didn't need to meet them to be absolutely terrified and fear for his life. Temari was frightening enough—he couldn't even begin to imagine muscled men who looked like her and were probably much more willing to use their fists.

"How would I get on their good side?"

Temari stared at him for a long moment before laughing darkly, "They don't have good sides."

* * *

They were eating breakfast when it happened. He was moving his fork around, paying his eggs little attention as he watched Temari lift a strawberry, dip it in whipped cream, and take a small bite. He'd been watching her for so long he was sure he hadn't blinked since she started devouring the fruits at the table, dipping each delicate bite in the cream available.

She finally caught him staring. "What?"

He shook his head. "Don't you have fruits in Suna?"

She stared at him blankly, dropping the hand holding another strawberry to the table.

"I live in a desert."

Right. He forgot about that.

He shifted, uncomfortable under her gaze, and went back to his scrambled eggs even as his appetite faithfully disappeared. From the corner of his eyes, he watched her watch him until she shrugged and bit into her strawberry.

Shikamaru felt like a pervert but he just couldn't help it. Temari was a beautiful, albeit terrifying, woman he couldn't even begin to deny. She wore exotic, see-through dresses that accentuated the curve of her back and the cinch of her waist. He had never, in his entire twenty years, seen a woman eat something so sensually as Temari did. In fact, he was almost positive that _anything_ she ate could be misconstrued as highly sexual. It was just the way her mouth moved, the way her tongue darted out to lick her lips—

"What the—!" He leaped away from the table, having knocked over a cup of steaming tea all down the front of his trousers. Temari dropped her food in surprise and half-stood, arm outstretched with a napkin.

"Damn," he muttered, wiping away with his hands, ignoring the burning sensation that was beginning to rise along his thighs. "Damn, damn, _damn_."

By then, Temari had reached him. "Did you burn yourself?"

"No."

He lied. He wouldn't have been surprised if he no longer had any skin on his thighs.

She knew. She rolled her eyes and dropped to her knees, giving him a good glimpse of her chest when he looked down to see what she was doing. She began to pat at his front with her napkin, making him hiss.

"Keep your eyes straight ahead," she warned him.

He did just that. And every time he wished to look down, he dug his fingernails into his palms, hoping she didn't notice.

At some point, he was sure that the tea had burned away any and all feeling from his lap.

"Shikamaru," she said, bringing his attention back to her.

He looked down, too eager.

She slapped the front of his trousers extra hard as she said, "To be honest, this isn't really helping. You might have to remove your trousers."

He choked back a squeal (because men, let alone _princes_, did not squeal). She regarded him with very little interest as she leaned back on her haunches.

"If you were burned, and I'm more than sure you were because you look like you just had hot oil poured over you that was then lit on fire, patting your trousers won't help. Let me take a look."

Seeing the intent in her eyes, Shikamaru backed away, the stinging pain on his thighs practically non-existent as he realized what Temari was going to do. He felt as if he were being backed up into a corner until he actually was.

"Just take off your trousers!" Temari ordered.

"_No_!" Shikamaru used his hands to shield the front of his lap, away from the hands that were ready to strike.

"What's the big deal?" she asked, annoyed.

"Really? _ Really_?" He pointed at her and then at his groin. "It's _inappropriate_!"

Temari laughed mockingly. "I promise I won't look."

"T-that's not the point," he sputtered.

"I promise I won't be impressed?" she said, a hint of an evil spark igniting in her eyes.

He growled. "That's not it. We have your reputation—"

Her smile nearly split her face. "My reputation? We do things differently in Suna, you know."

Shikamaru couldn't help raising his hands in astonishment. "You're not a—"

She attacked him immediately. He hadn't been prepared for it at all. Temari's hand gripped his trousers and pulled, hard, until they slipped down his legs and revealed the frighteningly red skin of his thighs.

"Oh my gods," she whispered, reaching out with her good hand to touch the smarting skin, bright crimson and threatening to melt off.

Then the door opened.

"Princess Temari, your brothers—SHIKAMARU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Shikamaru did not know which was worse: that his mother stood at the door, staring at Temari while the blonde's hand was poised in mid air near his crotch, or that Temari's two brothers stood behind her, radiating all intents of murder, at the sight of their sister on her knees before her future-husband while his trousers were off.

Either way, Shikamaru was sure he was about to die.

* * *

**AN: **Thank you so much to everyone who has continued reading and has showed me support by reviewing! Please continue doing so!

And to new readers, please submit a review! It really strengthens my resolve to keep going.


	12. In Which the Princess Says More

**Chapter XII**  
_In Which the Princess Says More than she Should_

Temari had never felt more uncomfortable or embarrassed in her life. Not when she had been caught skinny dipping in her castle's very large fountain when all the foreign diplomats had been visiting; not when she caught her brother using her makeup; not when a very nasty rumor about her and her virtue had been published in The Suna Times; not even when she walked in on one of her maids being wooed on her very own bed. None of those moments could add up to the mortification she felt right then and there, in an audience chamber with the Queen, her two brothers, and Shikamaru—who was so precariously close to going into a coma that she was surprised to see him sitting up so straight and still.

"_What_," the Queen spat, looking right at Shikamaru although her words pierced through Temari, "were you _doing_?"

"He has three seconds to answer," Kankurou warned, flexing his muscles, "or I kill him."

Gaara shook his head, lifting his unnaturally small hand to rest on Kankurou's shaking arm. "Let him answer without feeling threatened."

Temari spared Shikamaru a look. He sat beside her, pale as death. There was sweat at his temples and his hands stuffed deep into his trouser pockets. He had, in the brisk walk to the audience chamber, unloosened the cravat at his neck, exposing his flawless, slim neck. Temari was quite surprised that his exposed weak point hadn't sent her brothers into a fit to draw blood.

"Shikamaru had spilled tea all over himself," she offered, fearing Shikamaru's incapacity to formulate words would lead to his ultimate demise. She did not want to be responsible for some skinny boy's death. "I was just helping him wipe it off."

"With his _trousers off_?" Kankurou emphasized. The Queen nodded anxiously while Gaara only sat back, his ice-cold eyes glued on the paralyzed Shikamaru.

"I was scared he had burned himself." As the words left her lips, Temari realized just how stupid her reasoning sounded out loud. There really _had_ been no reason to take his trousers off.

"So you asked him to take his pants off?" The Queen did not sound pleased. She was so upset that the veins in her neck were beginning to bulge. Temari even started to worry that they would pop at any moment, covering her in sticky blue blood.

She was so proud of her self-control at not having rolled her eyes throughout the entire conversation that Temari smiled while saying, "At some point, I'll be seeing more than Shikamaru without his pants."

Apparently, it only took one extremely suggestive comment on her part to get Shikamaru to snap out of his paralysis. The prince's faced flared up as he held up a hand to defend himself.

"I had no ill intentions! Temari just came right at me and pulled my trousers down against my permission!"

"I'm killing him," Kankurou declared as he leaped out of his chair.

Gaara pulled him back down without effort, just as the Queen stood and faced the betrothed couple, fury written all over her face and quite possibly the rest of her body.

"Shikamaru, get up."

Shikamaru did not argue with his mother. He got up quickly.

"Prince Gaara, Prince Kankurou—we shall leave you with your sister. I am sure you three have much to discuss, what with a certain incident and all," at this, the Queen regarded Temari's broken wrist. "We have sent for the very best doctor in our kingdom. She should be arriving any day now."

Gaara nodded. "We are grateful. Thank you."

The Queen gestured towards the door with her head and waited for Shikamaru as he crossed the room and went out the door, not bothering to spare Temari another glance.

When the door closed, Kankurou pointed an accusing finger at her. "What the _hell_ was that, Tem?"

Gaara stood, placing his hands behind his back, taking on the stance their father usually did when he was ready to punish them. "What has been going on?"

Temari had always been terrified of Gaara. It was hard not to be when he looked the way he did and had, when he was only six years old, crawled into the throne room with a bleeding forehead and the symbol for love carved into his skin. Over the years, however, she had grown to love him as best she could, taking care of him and watching him mature into the man he had become. And then, as he turned to look at her through his long lashes, his carved tattoo gleaming, she could see that he was only worried about his sister.

Temari shook her head. "Nothing."

"What happened to your wrist?"

She didn't want to lie. She had never, not in all her life, lied to Gaara. Even when the consequences were so dire, Temari had prided herself in always being completely honest around the redhead.

But she had to this time.

"Nothing."

"You are lying."

Gaara didn't look offended. He didn't even look upset. He remained expressionless, his eyes boring holes into her skull, as if attempting to get the truth right out of her brain.

"What happened?"

Temari was a practiced liar. She could lie through her teeth and be so convincing, she'd almost believe herself. But when she faced Gaara, her resolve withered. She felt her stomach revolt against the lie she had told and would continue to defend. Her stomach twisted itself into knots and her throat constricted, trying to keep another lie from slipping out of her mouth. She could lie to everyone else in the world, but Gaara was not to be lied to. Kankurou might be offended; her father expected every word out of her mouth to be a lie; her tutors waved her excuses and dishonesty away—but Gaara would _never_ forgive her. There was no way she could lie to him.

The princess knew that if she were to reveal the truth and Sasuke got what he deserved, his family might retaliate. Though she knew enough about the Uchiha clan to know they were not a family to be trifled with, she didn't know the extent of their power. Sasuke had decided to mess with two royal families; he was obviously a smart man. He had to have _something_ backing him up if he was going to cause trouble for two families that could easily destroy him and the rest of his family.

"Gaara," she finally said, keeping her composure, "it really was nothing. I fell down a flight of stairs and tried to stop myself by using my hands. I ended up breaking my wrist."

Kankurou shook his head. "I don't buy it."

"Have I ever lied to you before?"

It was her last resort. She looked towards Gaara, using her honesty as her most deceptive ally.

Gaara blinked once, and then twice, as if unsure whether he believed her. Eventually, he sighed and returned to his seat.

"If you are lying," Gaara said, his voice void of any emotion, "you must be doing it for a good reason."

Kankurou looked between both siblings. "I don't know what's going on, but I guess I'm glad I got to see you, Tem."

She made a face; scrunching up her nose at him, glad to find a way to change the subject. "Are you trying to be _brotherly_?"

"Gross, no way. I take it all back."

Gaara was not intimidated by sentimentality. "Temari, I am glad to see you are well, besides your wrist."

Temari nodded slowly and felt her insides weaken. She wanted to tell her brothers everything: how much she hated Konoha; how much she hated reading history books about a place she hated; how much she hated being away from home; how much she hated being away from _them;_ how much she hated Shikamaru. But as she opened her mouth, ready to spill everything ("_Take me home, please! I don't want to get married! I'll stay in the dungeon forever!_"), her throat closed up and a tiny fragment of her rebelled and demanded she rethink her situation.

She did not, in fact, hate Konoha nearly as much as she wanted to believe she did. She enjoyed the warmth and the plants—especially the fruits. She did not, in fact, hate reading history books about Konoha; they were actually incredibly interesting and revealed just how many similarities the two nations shared despite everything. She did not, in fact, hate being away from home at all; after all, home consisted of desert heat, female oppression, and the hatred of a father she could never truly love. And while she did hate being away from her two brothers—_when had Gaara began to grow facial hair, anyway?_—she did not hate Shikamaru. Not a little. Not at all. She enjoyed their conversations, his nonchalant attitude, the way he seemed perfectly at peace when staring at the clouds, how much effort he could exert in a moment, how much he seemed to actually _care_ for her, even though she knew otherwise. Temari could fight for her independence and freedom; she could fight for the choice to marry for love; but she would never find it. Princesses were never to be given the opportunity to love. It was a sad truth that she had, for a long time, accepted. And if that was the case, there could be no one better than Shikamaru who, for all his faults (and hers), still managed to rescue her when she needed someone most.

"Temari?" Gaara asked, concern lacing through his words. Kankurou peered at her from Gaara's side, worried as well.

"What? Sorry. Yes, I'm well. Very well."

"I don't like him," Kankurou declared.

Temari wanted so desperately to agree with him but found her mouth unable to open. When had things changed? And why did it change so quickly?

"He's alright," she said instead. "He's not bad at all."

Kankurou looked incredibly confused. "Wait, are you trying to say you've actually fallen for this guy?"

This seemed to pique Gaara's interest. Temari knew that had the redhead any eyebrows, they would have shot up into his hair and disappeared.

"No," she told them flatly. "_No_. He's just not as bad as I thought he would be. We get along just fine."

For some reason, she felt guilt begin to build in her stomach again; a gnawing, irritating scratching starting in the pit of her belly and traveling upwards.

It was the guilt that came with telling a particularly terrible lie.

She didn't want to know what it meant.

At that moment, the Queen strolled into the room again, Shikamaru following lazily behind her. The Queen bowed her head in acknowledgement as all three stood in greeting.

"Please, sit," she ordered. Shikamaru stood at her side, hands in his pocket.

Temari tried to catch his attention, staring pointedly at him. He, however, seemed bent on not meeting her eyes at all and continued to stare at the ground.

"I wanted to discuss details of the marriage while you two were here."

Temari choked on her saliva. Shikamaru's shoulders slumped in defeat. Kankurou did a double take, cracking his neck in the process. Gaara was completely nonplussed.

"I thought," Temari began, choosing her words carefully, mentally running through a checklist of approved words to use around the Queen, "that we still had time."

The Queen laughed. "Not as much as you would like to think. Weddings take time, and royal weddings take even longer. We have two weeks."

"What is it you would like to discuss?" Gaara asked.

"The issue of her dowry, for one thing, and certain Konohanese rituals you may be unaware of."

"Rituals?" Temari repeated.

"Hasn't Ino informed you of the wedding rituals?" The Queen questioned her, looking genuinely surprised.

Temari wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't want to get the girl in trouble but she didn't want to be held responsible for information she had never received. "I'm sorry, we haven't reached that point in our lessons."

"No matter," the Queen dismissed. "Although the King and I still insist that a dowry is unnecessary, it would not be a terrible idea to bring it for the princess. We want her to be completely well-established before entering this marriage, in case of any misfortunes."

"Like if he cheats on her and asks for a divorce?" Kankurou interrupted, cracking his knuckles.

The Queen pretended she did not hear him. "But that isn't nearly as important as our wedding rituals. First off, there will be two weddings."

Gaara cocked his head to the side, appearing very much like a puppy, only hairless and with a blaring red tattoo on his forehead. "Two weddings? I am afraid I do not understand."

"As per tradition, we will have one small wedding with the family and court officials, and then a second one for the public."

Kankurou's eyebrows furrowed together. "That's ridiculous. Why on earth would the public be invited? They have no business in royal affairs."

"That's what I said," Temari mumbled darkly, glaring daggers at Shikamaru, who still refused to even glance her way.

"We also have the consummation ritual—"

"_What_?"

Everyone turned to her when she uttered the words. Temari felt as if the entire world had stopped turning. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

"The consummation ritual," the Queen repeated.

"What is it?" Gaara asked. His voice was strained.

"In order to prove that the marriage is legitimate, the couple must consummate it."

"And how will anyone know if we did?" Each word was etched out in controlled anger.

The Queen did not blink as she responded, "It will be done in the presence of the King's Counsel."

At this, Shikamaru finally raised his head. Gaara's eyes widened in the biggest display of emotion anyone had ever seen him make. Kankurou sputtered unintelligible nonsense.

Temari was silent.

There were no words to describe what she felt.

So she stood, grabbed Shikamaru's hand, and ran out of the room, ignoring all the yells and calls that came after her.

Once they were safely in her room, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, the coolness of the doors comforting against the palm of her good hand.

"Did you just lock us in your _room_?"

Temari ignored Shikamaru's question (his tone of voice was incredibly _rude_). She breathed heavily as she attempted to bring her heart rate to a more acceptable level of I-Just-Ran-for-My-Life-and-Quite-Possibly-Ruined-What's-Left-of-It.

"This isn't going to help our situation any better."

"Will you shut up?" she snapped, glaring at Shikamaru. Every little part of her was boiling with bitter, red-hot anger. "Your whining won't accomplish much, either."

Their eyes locked for a long moment. Then, he shook his head and began to pace the room, hands in his pockets. He obviously did not like the turn of events very much either. "Your brothers are going to murder me. Did you see the look in their eyes? Because I did."

"They aren't going to kill you," she dismissed distractedly, trying to concentrate on the sounds of approaching footsteps. There were none.

He did not believe her. Shikamaru fell in one of her chairs and leaned his head against his chest, defeated. "Whatever."

"I don't think it matters whether my brothers have murderous intentions," she said, satisfied that no one had come after them—and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to get in once she pushed various objects to bar the door. "What you should be worrying about are _my_ murderous intentions."

Shikamaru shrugged. "It was as much a surprise to me as it was for you."

"Get off it," she yelled. "It's a Konohanese tradition!"

"That hasn't been practiced for ages."

"Did your parents go through with it?"

He leaned his elbows on his knees. "I don't know."

"_Did they go through with it_?"

"Yes," he muttered.

Temari wanted to punch something. Temari wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch everyone. She wanted to throw things and scream and rip dresses and call her father every curse word in every language she knew. She wanted to denounce the entire world and go into hiding and to hell with the well-being of her country, she was supposed to—

"I know," Shikamaru said, standing and inching towards her. "This isn't exactly going as planned…"

Finally, the blonde princess of Suna had had enough.

"No!" she screamed, her hands wrapping around the hairbrush she had left on her desk. "It isn't going as planned at all! I am not supposed to be marrying you!" She threw the hairbrush at him.

It missed him by a few inches. She reached for a stack of rolled parchment and chucked it.

"Temari," he called, dodging her weapon of choice.

She threw another roll of parchment. It knocked him softly on the head, which he ignored as he still walked towards her.

"This is all wrong!" She found a book and threw it, although it landed far past Shikamaru, harmless. "You weren't supposed to want to marry me and I wasn't supposed to develop any feelings for you!"

He stopped at the words. It wasn't until a few seconds later that Temari realized what she had said and the gravity of the situation she had just placed herself in.

She stepped back, trying to create distance between them, now that she realized how close he had gotten to her in her moments of anger. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, bowing her head. "I didn't mean to say that. It was nothing."

"Do you… have feelings for me?" he questioned. He took one step closer to her.

She shook her head. Of course she didn't. She had said that without meaning it. She'd been angry at what had happened and she wanted to scream about anything—she could have talked about dinosaurs and parties and really pretty dresses.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His voice sounded far closer than it should.

"Yes," she said roughly, the words laden on her tongue. "I feel nothing towards you."

He was standing in front of her, only a few inches separating them.

Dark, slanted eyes watched her carefully. He closed them and raised a finger to her cheek, running it down to stop at the corner her lips.

"I told you," he whispered, opening his eyes again, revealing an intensity she was unsure she wanted to see, "I want to marry you."

"I know this is a game," she said quickly. She could feel her heart begin to race, hammering inside her chest, as if attempting to jump out. "You don't want to marry me."

Shikamaru ran his finger over her lips and the world seemed to go in slow motion. "This is where you're wrong. I threw my cards out a long time ago."

If it had been a proper romance, he would have crossed those few inches and sealed his words with a kiss. If it had been a proper romance, she would have struggled all for about two seconds before melting in his embrace and allowing him complete control over her malleable body.

Instead, what happened was this: he sighed again, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and leaned away just as she raised her hand and punched him in the nose.

When the healer known as Tsunade finally arrived at the palace, she was seeing more than a broken wrist.

* * *

**AN**: I'm churning these chapters out way faster then ever!

As always, please review and if you have any CONCRIT, please feel free to comment.

Thank you old and new readers alike! You're the best!


	13. In Which the Prince Lets the Girl Go

**Chapter XIII**_  
In Which the Prince Lets the Girl Go_

Outside, the sun was bright and shining. Birds sang. Clouds dazed by. Trees swayed in the gentle breeze. Squirrels fanned themselves with their furry tails and complained about the extremely warm weather. Polar bears, in some distant world, complained about the cold. Orochimaru sat in darkness and contemplated his obsession with little boys with power trips. Kankurou hit on the maids of Konoha Palace. Gaara watched and rolled his eyes.

Shikamaru, on the other hand, sat up in his bed, glaring down his broken nose at the blonde princess who sat just a few feet away. Tsunade gently pressed her fingers against the bone of his poor olfactory organ, ignoring the hiss he gave her as she touched a particularly sensitive area.

"Let me get this straight," the healer said, pausing to flick her long, blonde hair over her shoulder as she turned to question Temari. "How did you break your wrist again?"

"I fell down the stairs," Temari responded seriously. There was no pause of uncertainty, no flinch of guilt, no nervous glance as the lie filled the air. Temari was so convincing, Shikamaru almost believed her.

Tsunade looked back at Shikamaru. "And you?"

He glared at Temari, who smirked as one eyebrow lifted skeptically. "I fell down the stairs," he muttered darkly, knowing that Tsunade would never believe him and that Temari had won.

"Hm. How very coincidental."

Tsunade was not stupid. Shikamaru had been in her care since the day he was born, over twenty years ago; and although she hadn't aged a bit and still appeared as a young twenty-something goddess, he knew she was wise (and older) than she appeared.

What was it with him and blondes?

He supposed it had something to do with really, really, _really_ bad luck.

"I'm not here to reprimand you two," Tsunade said, after a few more pokes to Shikamaru's nose. "Just, don't do it again. The King will need my full attention now and I don't want to waste time trying to repair you."

At the mention of his father, Temari glanced at him. He swore he saw a brief hint of guilt fill her eyes, but it was gone by the time he blinked. But he knew slightly better.

It was easy to pretend nothing was happening to the King when everyone else in the palace seemed completely oblivious to the illness he had. The servants and court assumed the King was being his ordinary self, locked in his room, working on things that no one really knew about. It was the way things had been for years. Such a charade was easy to maintain.

Tsunade stepped away from Shikamaru. "This is going to hurt," she warned him, rolling up her sleeves and cracking her knuckles.

He lifted his head, giving her easier access to his broken nose. It didn't really matter anyway—

"_Holy sh—_"

Tsunade clamped a hand over his mouth. "Told you." She tilted his head up, observing his reconstructed nose, and nodded appreciatively. "Good as new. You're done. You might not want to break it again anytime soon, though." At this, she spared Temari a glance. Temari's response was a smirk of satisfaction.

"Your turn," Tsunade said, advancing towards her.

Temari held her wrist out, seemingly unbothered by the pain she was just about to experience.

Shikamaru was amazed to see the princess's only indication that something had hurt was an almost unnoticeable wince. A few seconds later, Temari moved her wrist experimentally and nodded.

"It's fine. Thank you."

Tsunade shrugged. "Just doing my job. But don't try and punch him again; you might break it."

Temari nodded. "I punched him with my other hand."

The healer laughed loudly, throwing her head back. "I'll take my leave."

The door closed quietly behind the woman, leaving Temari and Shikamaru alone in his very large room.

He lifted a finger to touch his newly repaired nose—definitely not broken. He continued to prod, a small part of him satisfied with the shame wracking the blonde as she watched him.

"Sorry," she mumbled so softly he might as well couldn't hear.

"What was that?"

She clicked her tongue and turned her nose upward in annoyance. "I _said_, 'I'm sorry.'"

He hummed. "That wasn't so hard, was it? You're forgiven."

"You deserved it."

"Possibly."

"Fine. Get better." She stood to leave.

"Temari!" he called after her.

His answer was the slamming of a door. He looked at the emptiness she left behind: a too-large bedroom, silence, and the fading warmth of someone so bright, their presence could never be truly erased.

Shikamaru closed his eyes and slid down deeper into the warmth of his bed, hoping it could replace the warmth of Temari's presence. Maybe if he tried not to think about it, he could fall asleep and wake up later to find her there, willing to answer his questions.

The sounds of an opening door made him crack his eyes open. The blonde princess strode in, carrying a small towel in her hands, her once-broken wrist still red and swollen, but completely healed.

When she reached him, she looked sullen. "Does it still hurt? Your nose?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

With more strength than he _hoped_ she intended she pushed the towel, cold and soft, to his swelling nose. "Feel better."

"Why are you doing this?"

She was silent. Her fingers pushed his hair away, tucking it behind his ears, the contact making him shiver. She didn't dare to meet his eyes, keeping hers glued to the coverlet on his bed.

Shikamaru had guessed it, early on, that he would fall in love with her. Not because she was that great of a person or because his personality fell under the I-Fall-Easily category, but because she was the right person for him. He could be himself around her. He didn't have to mind his manners or pretend to be interested in idle talk or buy her ridiculous amounts of barbecue chips. She didn't care about his title since she had her own. She didn't hide her laugh behind her hand and she didn't hide her body behind layers of unnecessary clothing. She was herself, through and through, and that was what he wanted most. He would have liked an average woman with average looks; but he much preferred someone who was her honest self around him.

Was this that feeling, that "knowing" his father had always talked about when he was much younger and still curious as to how a man like his father could possibly marry a woman like his mother?

It had to be.

She hesitated; he knew her resolve was faltering. "What?"

He liked her. This much he knew. He liked the sound of her voice and the way she walked and he especially liked it when she smiled at him, regardless of its rarity. He liked the way her hair wasn't exactly perfect and he liked the way her body _was_ exactly perfect. He liked that she was strong and loud and that a tiny little part of her could acknowledge others.

Shikamaru opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have punched you. After what you've done for me that night, I had no right. I respect you even though I don't want to."

"We don't have to do the consummation ritual."

She visibly tensed. "I don't think we have much of a choice. Unless you don't want to marry me?" He didn't miss the hopefulness in her voice.

"I'll find a way. I'm going to be king, aren't? I should have some kind of power."

Her face relaxed and her eyes softened, though she still managed to choke out a hardened, "Thank you."

"But I do have a question."

"What?"

"Was it my charming personality?"

"_What_?"

He waved a hand at her. "Or my disarming smile?"

"I've never seen you smile."

He laughed and flashed her his best grin (at least, he hoped it was his best grin). "Was it?"

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "I don't even know what you're talking about. I didn't think you were one to speak in riddles."

"What made you fall for me? My eyes, maybe?"

She grimaced. "You don't even _have_ eyes."

"I'm done fighting it. I don't think I even put up a fight. I like you. Very much," he finished lamely.

The silence between them made him nervous. Usually, he enjoyed the quiet for the chance to think aloud and have no one disturb him. But this silence was different; it was long and full and nerve-wracking. All he wanted was an answer.

"Why are you doing this?" he repeated for good measure, filling the silence, hoping that if only he probed enough, she would reveal the truth.

She squared her jaw and ground her teeth, struggling with the words she wanted to say. And then, she finally relented.

"You already know," she whispered, and although the words were soft and her mouth still turned downwards and her hands were still clenched, she was being as brutally honest as he knew her to be.

This was the moment. He had messed up earlier. This was his opportunity to do what he was supposed to when he had been near to her, her face so close to his.

She seemed to know what he intended. Her eyelashes fluttered shut and he saw her pucker her lips slightly, just as she began to lean forward, blindly trying to find his mouth. He let his eyes close and moved forward, hoping that somehow, he would land where he was supposed to, his lips aligned perfectly to hers.

"Shikamaru, we heard you broke your—_oh_!"

Temari flew away from him, her cheeks flaring. Shikamaru inwardly cursed Ino into oblivion.

Ino grinned from ear to ear, her eyebrows raised suggestively at the pair of them. Chouji stood behind her, sheepish, obviously just as embarrassed as Temari to have walked in on such a private moment.

"Geez," Shikamaru muttered darkly. "Why does something _always_ ruin the moment?"

Ino sidled up to Temari, leaning conspiratorially with the princess. "Did we _interrupt_ something?"

"No," Temari said, voice perfectly even.

"Well, now that I've found you, we should probably brush up on some wedding stuff," Ino said conversationally. "Like the tea ceremony and the rings…"

Temari nodded, forced. "Fine." She took Ino's arm and pulled her along. At the door, she shoved the blonde first, looked over her shoulder at Shikamaru for a moment that was too short for his pleasure, and walked out.

Chouji looked at the door. "She's not going to kill Ino, is she?"

Shikamaru stared in wonder. "No. I think she likes Ino. She's the kind of person who is really mean to the people she cares for most."

"How are you feeling?" Chouji asked, his concern for Ino's wellbeing morphing into concern over his best friend's nose.

"Tsunade saw me and fixed me up. I just have some swelling. Temari brought me a cold towel to help."

Chouji watched him curiously. "Are you still not going to marry her?"

"Do you think I like her?"

"Well, Ino said—"

"Do _you_ think I like her?"

His friend hesitated. Shikamaru already knew the answer but wanted confirmation. His best friend knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

"Yes," Chouji said. "I think you like her very much."

Shikamaru nodded and leaned back into his pillows, pressing the cold towel against his nose. "Yeah, I thought so, too."

"So are you going to marry her?"

This was the question. Shikamaru furrowed deeper into his bed sheets, uncomfortable with the question and the reality he would have to face—regardless of how he felt for her, his marriage was being forced, not only upon him, but also upon her. And even if he had a small, tiny, miniscule inkling that Temari may possibly feel the same way, he didn't want her to marry him because she had to. The chivalry that had surfaced inside him could not accept such an arrangement.

Chouji had somehow managed to find a bag of chips underneath his bed. At his lack of an answer, his best friend came to his side, sat in an empty chair, and passed him the food, as if he already knew what Shikamaru's decision would be.

"If you really like her, Shika, and she really likes you…I'm sure things will work out."

Shikamaru nodded and took a handful of chips.

He sure hoped his friend was right.

As if life had already been predestined, the door opened with a servant bowing deeply.

"Your Highness, you have been called to the Private Meeting Room. It is an emergency."

Without question, Shikamaru leapt out of bed and bounded across the room, Chouji on his heels. He ran as fast as he could, forgetting everything his mind had just been too-overrun with.

When he reached the room, he could only think of his father, the burial, and when he would have to announce to everyone what he planned to do. His hand, of its own volition, pulled the door open and revealed Temari standing with her brothers and a Sunan messenger holding a bag.

"What's going on?" he asked, nearing Temari, who shot him a glare that kept him at bay.

The Sunan messenger fell to his knees, hands outstretched towards Gaara. "The King has died."

A shocked silence rang through. Gaara's hands reached into the bag to draw out a large crown obviously suited for the grandest king. Kankurou's mouth fell open as Temari drew in a sharp breath.

"My King," the messenger said, touching his head to the floor in the deepest bow.

Gaara looked down upon the messenger. "When did he die?"

"I came as soon as it happened. I did not stop for food, nor drink, nor rest. I believe it has been only one day and a half."

"_How_ did he die?" Temari's voice was void of emotion—not even a crack in the mention of death.

The messenger looked grim. "He was murdered, Your Highness. The murderer left no traces."

"We can't go back," Temari said, taking her brother's chin in her hand. "It could be a trap. You could be next."

The messenger shook his head as he looked upon his new king. "It is requested that you and your brother return home for the burial."

Temari regained her composure just as quickly as she lost it. She drew herself to her full height, and although she was not tall, it was impressive to see the power of a princess in her full glory.

"What of me?"

The messenger did not blink under her gaze. "You are no longer considered a princess of Suna, Your Highness, as you will soon be married into the Konohanese royal family. You are _theirs_ now."

It was that which broke Temari's poise. She swayed, both brothers reaching towards her and catching her before she fell to the ground. As she leaned against Kankurou and turned her face into his shoulder for the shortest of moments, Shikamaru saw the glisten of a tear before it disappeared into the folds of her brother's clothing, the only evidence that Temari was not as strong as she appeared.

He knew what he had to do.

So he took Temari's hand and, ignoring the look of incredulity on her face, knelt on the ground.

"I do not want to marry you. The engagement is called off. You can leave."

* * *

**AN:** Yeah, I know. I didn't update. But I have good reasons: I had finals and then I went to Korea and had a life.

To make it up to you: a chapter. With things rolling along. Forgive me?

Please review. At least I'll know you love me. Somewhat.


	14. In Which the Princess Does Not Indulge

**Chapter XIV**  
_In Which the Princess Does Not Indulge in Weakness_

"You haven't cried."

Temari did not turn to Gaara when she answered, "I have no reason to. He was barely a father to me."

The carriage lurched forward as it came across a large bump on the road. Although they were going as fast as they could, it was still too slow for Temari. She wanted to feel desert sun and winds; wanted to see dunes extend to the farthest reaches of the horizon; wanted to see her home loom before her, tall amid the shifting sands. But what she wanted most was to leave as quickly as she could, to forget what a real garden looked like, to forget what _he_ looked like.

"I was talking about the prince."

She turned to Gaara, who did not falter as her lips turned downwards.

"What are you talking about?"

Gaara finally looked away to stare into the empty seat in front of him. "I thought you liked him."

"You thought wrong."

Not another word was said.

Then the carriage came to a stop

A tiny part of Temari had given up all hope in ever laying eyes upon the grand castle of Suna again. But there she stood, gazing at the domed top and the tall finial, consumed with the terrifying fact that even as she took in the sight of the home she had wished desperately to return to, she missed the comparatively drab palatial walls of the life she had left behind.

"Welcome home," Kankurou whispered as he passed her by, pausing only to touch her shoulder in what she assumed was brotherly affection in time of grief. She watched as he followed Gaara into the palace, who did not stop to acknowledge the presence of the servants waiting for him.

She stood for a little longer, feeling the dryness of the desert begin to penetrate through the armor of her flesh. She swore she could feel the rays of the sun begin to darken her skin and lighten her hair. And she knew that the wind and the sand and the unforgiving sun could not remove the lump that had formed in her throat and the sting in her eyes to subside.

"Your Highness." One of the drivers came to her, bowing his head deeply. "Forgive me, but I believe you must go inside soon."

Temari felt rooted to the ground. She wanted to run in, find her room, and sit there for as long as she was allowed to. She wanted to go to her gardens and see the plants she had grown against nature.

She wanted to turn around, go back into the carriage, and demand to return to Konoha.

"This is stupid," she said aloud, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. "I don't even know why I care."

"I'm sorry?" the driver asked carefully, eyeing her suspiciously.

Great, now her servants thought she was demented.

She shook her head and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Breathing deeply, she took one step towards the palace. Then another. And another. Until she was running up the pathway and through the large double doors of her past life.

"Temari! What are you doing here?"

Baki stood a little away from her, near the spiraling stairs of the palace, looking absolutely mortified at the sight of her.

"I missed you, too," she greeted him.

"You should be in Konoha."

She didn't respond.

"I told them specifically not to bring you back before your wedding."

The lump in her throat constricted, making the words she spoke crack. "The King of Suna is dead."

Although his dark eyes softened, the words he spoke did not lose their edge. "That is none of your concern."

Temari could feel fire begin to ignite in her blood. She felt rage build in her belly, threatening to spill over and erupt. "He was my father!"

Baki strode up to her, seemingly forgetting that _she_ was the princess and _he_ was the lowly noble. "You are no longer a princess of Suna, Temari!"

Silence overtook the entire palace. Every servant near them stopped moving and turned their eyes to watch her.

The princess was pissed. Servants later swore that the room temperature had dropped to nearly-freezing as she turned to face Baki full on, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits of "Oh-No-You-Didn't." After an entire minute of not saying a single word, the silence deafening and causing enough uncomfortable shuffling and nervous glances elsewhere, Temari opened her mouth.

"I'm not getting married! He called off the wedding!"

It was not until the words were out in the open that Temari felt the gravity of them finally sink in. The lump in her throat grew twice its size and the world seemed unable to stand still.

"Temari—" Baki began, reaching towards her.

"Don't touch me," she warned. As everyone watched her, she climbed the spiraling stairs, ignoring Kankurou and Gaara who waited at the top, and went into her room.

And although the sights were familiar; although the bed felt the same under her body as it did all the years before; although she could recall every single crack in the ceiling and the scratching of her name on the window sill, she had never felt more out of place and homesick than ever before.

* * *

Temari sat in the King's meeting room with Kankurou, both siblings watching as Gaara sat behind the large, black desk and rifled through endless amounts of paper. He wore the robes of the king, fitting him so naturally it didn't hit Temari until seconds later that he was not in his usual garb of red and brown. Her heart swelled with pride at the sight of him, a natural-born king; but just as soon as it happened, her heart fell into the pit of her stomach, remembering that she was not back home for a relaxing visit.

"When is the funeral?" she asked, her voice as void of emotion as she could make it.

Gaara did not look up as he answered, "Tomorrow. A private affair and then the body will make its round through the town."

Kankurou shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Don't worry, Tem, we've got security everywhere."

She glared at him. "Then why are you so nervous?"

Gaara put his papers down to look at them both, ice-green eyes as empty as when their uncle had died. "The servants will spread rumors about our family if you two keep on that way, and I cannot have my succession tampered with, which might be what those murderers wanted."

She stood, sending the chair screeching behind her. "So now you're acknowledging that you're in danger." And _now_ she was angry.

"I have always acknowledged it," Gaara answered noncommittally, staring up at her from his seat. She hoped he knew he was lucky to have that desk stand in her way from killing him herself.

"What if they try to kill you next?"

"It would take a lot to kill Gaara…" Kankurou mumbled, staring at the ground.

She kicked him for good measure, earning a hiss of pain in return.

"This isn't a joke," she said seriously. "Don't you think it's a little too coincidental that just a few weeks short of my wedding—which is, not to mention, a wedding of alliance and nothing else—that the king responsible for it is killed while the two of your are away?"

Gaara nodded. "I have thought a lot about the possibilities of a conspiracy."

"Possibilities?"

"Tem, there's no denying you're brilliant and all that, but we can't just jump to conclusions." Kankurou reached out to her but after thinking better on it, let his hand fall to his lap.

She pretended not to notice. "That's not the point." Sighing, she returned to her seat.

"While I was in Konoha, there was this boy—Sasuke Uchiha. He was so interested in _you_ Gaara and—I'm sorry I didn't tell you but it was too complicated at the time I swear—he was the reason I broke my wrist. He dragged me to a closet one day and tried to—"

Before she could finish, Gaara's eyes had hardened and his hands had turned into fists. A strange leak of sand began to fall from the ceiling, landing on the desk, forming a tiny mound.

"But Shikamaru—" the name came out cracked, the lump in her throat too constricting—"he managed to come on time."

"What do you think he meant by doing it?"

Temari stared at the wall opposite her, refusing to meet her brother's eyes. "It is obvious that by compromising my virtue, I would be illegible for marriage, destroying the alliance and possibly starting a war between Suna and Konoha. But _that_ obviously failed. Not to mention, my virtue has _always_ been compromised."

Before Gaara could reply, the meeting room doors slammed open with Baki running in, obviously concerned.

"Gaa—I mean, Your Majesty, we found this in the late king's bedchamber."

In his hands he carried a leaf inscribed with the word _Konoha_.

Utter stillness. Temari stared at the evidence in Baki's hands and felt as if she weren't even in her body. Kankurou moved and shut the door, startling a servant who carried tea. Gaara stood slowly, reaching for the leaf and laying it on his desk.

"What do you think of this, Baki?"

Baki shook his head in anger. "It is apparent that the murder was a move directed by the King of Konoha! It's a plan to invade and take over!"

"No!" Temari slammed her hand on the desk. "Gaara, believe me, the King of Konoha would be incapable of doing such a thing."

"Stay out of this, Temari," Baki snapped.

Gaara shook his head. "That is the _Princess Temari_, to you, Baki. Do not forget your place." He turned to his sister. "Why do you say that?"

Temari had never been surer of something in her life. Suddenly, everything began to piece together, quickly fitting themselves into the battle arena of politics and royalty in her head.

"First, the King is practically incapable of doing _anything_ anymore. Your Majesty, the king is dying."

Gaara nodded once. "Continue."

"As I told you about the earlier incident, this could simply be the second attack to cause a war between Suna and Konoha. They are the two most powerful empires on this side of the earth. Please, _please_ believe me that this isn't something by the Konohanese royal family."

Baki turned to her, doubt written clearly in his features. "Your Highness, how sure are you?"

"I'm the smartest out of us and quite possibly the entire kingdom. I think that's enough."

"What do we do tomorrow?" Gaara asked her seriously.

Sisterly concern was what propelled Temari into reaching for her brother's cheek and holding her hand there for a moment. "We do as you say, of course."

* * *

She could not sleep that night. The moon, so large in the blanket of darkness above, glittered brighter than she remembered. The starts twinkled in and out of life, a reflection of how she felt being back home. Glad to be back in the familiar confines of her four-cornered room and the thin mattress beneath her; feeling alive as the sun kissed her skin in the daytime and the moonlight bathed her in light at night. But lifeless when she thought of the other room she left behind; of the green canopies that surrounded the _other_ kingdom; of the thought of thin lips never meeting her own.

_You wanted to stay_, a voice chided—a harsh, nasty voice she recognized as her own.

"Of course not," she said aloud, breaking the silence. Her room, however, remained still and unmoving even as she threw off her sheet covers and her heart began to hammer in her chest.

_You wanted to marry him_.

Impossible.

She raised a hand to touch her nose; positive she felt it grow longer.

Suddenly, her eyes began to sting and the perpetual lump in her throat finally give way to dry sobs. Her eyes prickled with tears and although she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, they leaked through, running down her cheek, falling into her hair.

Temari knew that he had let her go because of the king's death—she knew it because she was intelligent and the way he'd held her hands and said the words made her believe that he _didn't_ want to let her go. But the sensitive, over-thinking side of her knew otherwise: he just didn't _want_ her. And while she knew better (he was hard to read but she was good at deciphering things) it was that sensitive, over-thinking side of her that kept winning. Shikamaru did not want to marry her. He did not want her to stay. He had finally found a good-enough excuse to call off the wedding and send her away.

Her heart began to rip right through the middle.

As the dry sobs continued, muffled only by sheer willpower, and the tears continued to trail down her face, the sun's first rays peeked through her window, staining the sand-colored walls orange and red.

One of the first things she'd been taught as a princess was to never, in a time of grief, let the public know just how deeply distressed she truly was. When her mother died, she had been three years old and her father felt no remorse explaining that her mother would never, ever return. As her mother's body lay out for the world to see, she hadn't shed a single tear, knowing full well that weakness was not allowed when one was a princess.

* * *

Things had not changed very much over the years. She stood with her brothers, black veil obscuring her view, black-laced gloves covering her shaking hands. The large room, full of noblemen and their families, was oddly hushed and quiet as each person filed in a line to stare into the coffin and pay their last respects to their late king.

Temari watched with very little interest. Unlike her mother's funeral, she didn't feel the prickle of tears or the distress of being alone in the world. While she knew that she had, in some way, felt something towards the man who was her father, once she knew he was gone, it was as if the connection had been completely severed. Looking at her brothers, she had no doubt that they, too, felt the odd lack-of-emotion that she experienced.

Noble after noble filed past, each one stopping to kneel before Gaara and swear loyalty to their new king. It all became a blur, each face the same as the last: tanned faces hiding behind somber expressions that couldn't mask the curiosity of meeting the mysterious boy who had been sheltered nearly all his life, kept away from prying eyes because he was, as it had eventually been revealed, Suna's strongest weapon in war.

But then, something caught her eye. A flash of pale skin and dark hair, unfathomably deep eyes that left anyone who stared into them too long drowning.

Uchiha Sasuke.

He bowed over the coffin, looking at the body before turning to look at her, curling one side of his lip as she felt her breath leave her lungs in a woosh. He turned on his heel and stalked away, but not before pausing to look back at her once more.

Without thinking, she hurried after him, ignoring Kankurou's call.

Temari followed his dark shape as it darted through the passageways of the old building, the sand-walls threatening to collapse.

Finally, he stopped, causing her to halt only a few feet away from him. The pounding in her heart resounded in her ears as sweat began to form along her temple and her palms.

He turned to her. "Did you figure it out?"

"It couldn't be you," she said. Her mind began to whirl with information.

In a moment, he was before her, forcing her to move backwards until she felt a wall against her back. His hands formed a cage around her, keeping her rooted in place as he leaned his mouth towards her ear.

"If that's what you think," he said noncommittally.

She eyed him carefully, taking in his build, the muscles that didn't fail to ripple as he moved his hands back to his hips, the disillusion in his eyes, the innocence on his hands. If she brought her hand straight up, it would connect with his nose, breaking it instantly. She could duck, dart to the left, and then kick him into the wall, giving her enough time to run away and call for others. But Temari did none, instead calculating the lack of guilt in his eyes and the blood that did not stain his hands.

"It wasn't," she declared, more than confident. "But you know who."

"I'd say your little brother is next, but he isn't," he answered, and she swore she could hear the irritation in his voice, even though his face remained blank. "But someone you care for may be in a lot of trouble."

And then he was gone.

If she had been winded before, she was completely suffocated now. She leaned against the wall for support, hand at her heart as it pounded away in her ribcage. Footsteps resounded through the halls before Kankurou skidded to a stop at her side, worry twisting his purple-less face.

"What happened?"

Gaara appeared, surrounded by guards. "Temari?"

"I have to go back," she said, forcing the words to push through her lips. Her heart wrenched painfully in her chest, as if an open wound had taken the place of her most vital organ "Shikamaru is in trouble." Even saying his name made her slightly breathless, as if she hadn't enough air to survive.

Kankurou drew her back, hand gripping her wrist tightly in case she tried to leave. Gaara blinked at her. "We'll send guards to warn him; it would be too dangerous for you to go alone." They were obviously far more concerned for her well being than that of a boy in another kingdom.

She shook her head at Gaara's words and shook off her other brother's grip. "No. I _have_ to go. Send me with the guards if you must but I have to go myself."

"Why?" But the way Kankurou asked, it sounded as if he already knew. She could tell in his eyes, the way her hand went lax and returned to his side without much of a fight.

Temari would not, of course, let him hear the truth. She rolled her eyes as she stood straighter, prepared to run. "Because men are rather useless at saving themselves."

She was gone before anyone could stop her, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

* * *

**AN:** Hey guys, I'm in Japan right now and the earthquake and nuclear plant explosions have really shaken the country up. Sorry I couldn't get this chapter out to you sooner. Study abroad preparations took over my life and then I couldn't even get on the internet when I got to Japan to inform my parents of my safety, let alone update on ffnet. Hope you guys can forgive me.


	15. In Which the Prince Loses the Girl

**Chapter XV  
**_In Which the Prince Loses the Girl_**  
**

Shikamaru felt like an idiot. No other word could accurately describe how he felt in the exact moment Temari had turned on her heels and flown away from the palace, straight out of his heart and back to the sandy dunes from whence she'd come. He had half-hoped she wouldn't have accepted his words, would have fought to stay by his side, would have renounced her family and said, "You are my family now, Shikamaru." But he knew better; he knew that she would take the opportunity without a moment's hesitation and he wouldn't have wanted it to go any other way.

That didn't make the situation any better. And it certainly didn't make him feel any better, either.

If he had been taciturn, unapproachable, and boring before, he was positively _horrid_ by the time three days had passed and still no word of Temari. His mother had all but given up on him; the servants avoided him like the plague (and he felt like the plague, which made his mood sour all the more); even Chouji and Ino were reluctant to stand in his presence longer than necessary. Shikamaru began to hate everything that reminded him of the foreign princess, starting with the sun and ending with the very floor she had treaded upon. He didn't even like to look at paper. He hadn't the slightest idea why, since paper had absolutely nothing to do with the stupid girl, but he did.

Well, this sucked.

He'd locked himself in his room from the moment he'd seen the carriage pull away from the palace—from him. He didn't bother to look if she'd peak out the window for one last glance. He didn't bother to watch her disappear into the distance, fading away until she became an unrecognizable dot on the horizon. No. He simply pulled the curtains close, locked the door to his bedchamber, and slept. And that was how he remained.

There was no point in wallowing. But that, of course, didn't stop him from pulling the pillow over his ears and pressing down hard, hoping to drown out the silence of his room—and the silence in his heart.

What were the odds that when things were starting to look up for him (hadn't he felt a stirring in his heart when he saw her? Thought of her? Was so near her he could kiss her?), her father would die and she would have to return home?

Wait.

Shikamaru sat up so quickly his brain had a hard time following. Disoriented for only a second, he scrambled out of bed and crossed to his desk, shifting through papers and settling on a piece of blank of parchment. He reached for a quill and stared at the page waiting for his brain to work out the kinks and begin to work.

The odds were very small. His brain calculated the proper number in a breath and he wrote it, staring at the near-impossibility of it.

But it wasn't impossible. Simply improbable.

And that was the problem.

People did not simply _drop dead_. Well, perhaps they did, but it was _improbable_. The odds were small. There usually happened to be an external occurrence that forced the person into a state of Not Living.

Kings were not an exception. If a king were to die an untimely death, it usually meant that something outside of nature was hard at work. And it was usually _someone_.

Murders took planning. Revolutions took planning.

Shikamaru scribbled furiously, trying to pull names, motives, and logic out of thin air but finding himself at a loss. Suna had few enemies. Perhaps some were upset over the alliance it was attempting to form with Konoha, but it would work to their advantage. The few enemies it did have would balk at the enormous army Konoha had at its disposal. Alone, Suna was a formidable enemy but together, Suna and Konoha would destroy any kingdom that dared attempt anything.

His quill stopped. Ink dripped onto the parchment and spread a black mark across the words he'd managed to write out, making them illegible.

Not that it mattered.

Only one name stood amongst the sudden flood of names and faces that filled Shikamaru's mind.

* * *

Shikamaru should not have been caught unaware. It was dark and most of the palace had fallen into a deep slumber. He was not an exception. It hadn't been two minutes since his head had hit his pillow before he was sound asleep, the worries of the day slipping away into unconsciousness.

Until there was a sound.

It was faint. If Shikamaru hadn't been paranoid, he would have sworn it was a dream. But he was alert and awake in a moment, eyes straining in the dark to catch sight of what had made the noise.

Temari slipped into view, quiet and stealthy, dressed in the most fitted outfit he'd ever seen in his entire short life. He was surprised to find his heart start to beat erratically in his chest, eager to jump out of his throat in response to the sight of Temari's golden hair. He hadn't realized just how much he'd believed that he would truly never see her again—and the mere sight of her was enough to make him worry about needing to restart his heart.

As if all the answers of life had finally been revealed to him, Shikamaru knew that only one thing mattered. That she was there. In his room. Near enough to touch, to hold, to kiss if he wanted to. He'd probably get pummeled into the ground before being able to grace her lips with his own, but there she was. Safe. Alive. Devastatingly beautiful.

"You're awake," she whispered—so soft, he struggled to hear it.

Sleep still clung to his eyes, making it difficult to take in the way the moonlight seemed to glow upon her tanned skin, bathing it in slits of ethereal light. "Barely. What are you doing here?"

Temari edged near him slowly. "Saving you, apparently," she responded, and he could not miss the smirk he heard in her voice, the one he imagined sitting perfectly on her mouth.

He tried to gather his bearings—only to find them quickly disappearing at the sight of her, gloriously tanned and breathtaking. But in a moment, he remembered everything from the day before and he suddenly knew that Temari had to leave—and quickly.

"Temari, you need to leave."

She stopped moving. "That's a fine way of saying 'thank you.'" He did not miss the sarcasm, the venom dripping from the words. She honestly believed it was about _him_ when it wasn't. It never was.

Goosebumps started to rise along Shikamaru's skin, as if trying to urge him to keep the talking minimal and to do everything in his power to get the woman out of his room and somewhere safe. He began to move, throwing off the sheet he'd been wrapped in and searching blindly for his slippers with his toes.

"They're after you, Temari." Where the hell were those slippers?

She made a sound of disbelief in the back of her throat. "You're obviously misinformed. Shikamaru—Sasuke was in Suna. He said you were next." A pause, and then, "I didn't know you didn't sleep with a shirt on. You're remarkably pale."

At this, Shikamaru paused and turned to face her. Sasuke, in Suna? He hadn't even realized the youngest Uchiha had been out of the kingdom. Perhaps he was wrong—if Temari were, indeed, next, wouldn't Sasuke have taken the opportunity to finish her off while he could?

Temari was pleased to have blindsided him. He could hear her smirking through the dark, could faintly see the left side of her lip curl in delight at his momentary relapse of stupidity. "I'm sure a minute in the sun in Suna and you'll be burned to a crisp."

Shikamaru wanted to smile. He wanted to grab her by the wrist and pull her into his arms despite the amount of effort it would require. But there was a terrible feeling in his gut that he couldn't shake away, demanding his attention, begging he not let the issue go so quickly.

"Why did you come back?"

"Because my goal in life was to see you half-naked," she deadpanned, cocking her hips and resting her hand on her waist. "I wasn't going to just let you die," she answered seriously.

"Who cares if I'm next? We're not engaged." _Anymore_.

"I'm not as heartless as you like to believe I am."

A toe found a slipper. He shuffled awkwardly, trying to get his feet in their proper place. "Could have fooled me."

"You're insufferable. I should have left you to die." She half turned, preparing herself to leave.

He couldn't let her. As much danger as he knew she was in, he couldn't bear seeing her walk away from him again, leaving him to the pathetic loneliness he'd been forced to experience for days. "Ah, to have thought I could have possibly missed you."

The effect was immediate. Temari froze, skin draining of any color he could possibly see through the moonlight. She looked like a ghost, staring at him with wide teal eyes and a slightly open mouth.

"Come off it," she muttered under her breath.

"It's obvious that you've fallen for my good looks and charm."

She snorted. "If so, I must have terrible taste in men."

He took a step closer to her. "I have no counterargument for that. You do." He was so much nearer to her, he could see the flush that was creeping along her neck, could see the nervous twitch of her mouth. "But you need to leave, Temari. They're not after me. They're after you."

A hand clamped against her mouth, keeping Temari's response, whatever it had been, a mystery. Soon, a body followed the hand, and just as Shikamaru prepared to move, a knife appeared at her slender throat, cold steel glistening.

"Don't move."

Shikamaru didn't. His heartbeat pounded in his chest as blood rushed into his ears.

Temari began to struggle. She tried twisting out of the grasp that kept her in place but could not budge. It wasn't until the blade moved and a trickle of blood trailed down her neck that she froze.

"Tell her to stop struggling."

Shikamaru couldn't. It was as if the hand had been clamped over his own mouth. Fear gripped his heart in a way he never thought possible. The blood in his veins stilled as he watched Sasuke's face become illuminated by the pale fingers of light filtering through the window.

"She figured it out mostly on her own," Sasuke began. He tightened his grip. Shikamaru could hear Temari's intake of breath, could see the fright in her eyes. "But I lied."

Her eyes widened. She really hadn't calculated other options. As intelligent as she was, once she had a plan, she had very little room for deviation. She was a headstrong girl. Now, it would cost her, her life. He could see the battle in her eyes, could see her desperate struggle. Temari was not a useless weakling of a female. She was strong, intelligent, incredibly sharp. But she was trapped for the second time by the same man, unable to save herself. This time, Shikamaru wasn't sure if he could save her, either.

"I said I would kill someone she cared for. I guess she has very little regards for her own life."

"Why are you doing this?" Shikamaru finally asked. He was asking a lot of questions in the past few minutes.

Sasuke and he weren't exactly friends and didn't really owe each other anything, but they had known each other for a very long, long time. Sasuke couldn't just ignore the years that bound them together as classmates and second-degree friends.

Sasuke's eyes did not soften as he said, "I had no choice."

In that moment, another figure materialized. Struggling to see through the fog of darkness that crept from the floorboards, Shikamaru made out a man beginning to take shape. His head, his neck, his shoulders, his legs and feet. As the dark cloud sifted slowly away, he could make out more prominent features: dark hair, narrowed eyes, pale skin; a build remarkably similar to that of the boy he stood next to. And suddenly, Shikamaru knew who it was.

The man began to speak, moving behind Sasuke to appear on Temari's other side. "We thought long and hard about it. Suna is possible to infiltrate—to destroy. But with an alliance with Konoha, it would be practically impossible. Do we kill the new King and then his brother? Do we kill the King of Konoha and then his own stupid son? Too much bloodshed. The people need to want the change that comes. So we kill the Princess. The innocent princess. The sister of the two most powerful men in Suna, who will likely go crazy with revenge and turn into blood-thirsty creatures, seeking revenge on Konoha. And the woman the future King of Konoha loves. In front of him. Destroy every little part of him that knows how to live. And make him go mad. He'd turn into a despotic ruler, forcing the citizens to want change. And then we would step in—"

"Who is 'we'?" Shikamaru interrupted. Anything to keep him talking.

The man who looked so much like Sasuke, only older and colder, cocked his head. "You will find out."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Kill her."

Suddenly, everything seemed to slow down. If time had come to a drag when Temari had left, time had come to a standstill as Temari slid towards the ground, a dark stain spreading across her abdomen, slick against the black of her clothing. Her mouth—the same mouth Shikamaru had imagined kissing countless times since he'd last seen her—formed a small "O" of surprise as her hands, now free, crept along her stomach and came away with bright red at her fingertips. She fell to her knees, making not a sound, staring at her hand in surprise, not quite believing that there was blood. The man barely took one look at her before he turned to Shikamaru, face blank.

"She will bleed to death but it will be slow. Watch carefully."

And then he was gone, taking Sasuke along with him.

Shikamaru was at her side in a moment but he couldn't bear to touch her, just in case it would make it all go faster. The faint light magnified the pain crossing her features, her face turning pale, as the blood seemed to flow out of her.

"Don't look at me like that," Temari snapped, irritated. "You'll make me think it's serious." She lifted her other hand, showing him a scrap of black leather. "I might be dying, but at least it wasn't in vain. I got a piece of his cloak."

There were too many things he wanted to say but no words to say them. Instead, he used his hands to try to find hers.

"Why did you come?" he finally asked again.

She laughed weakly, sending her into a sputter, causing a leak of blood to trail from the corner of her mouth. "Because he was going to kill you."

"I didn't need you to save me." _I needed to save you_.

She rolled her eyes—from annoyance or pain, he didn't know. "You're useless. A baby. Look at you; I can see the tears in your eyes."

He didn't bother to respond to that. "You should stop talking now."

She shrugged and winced. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she stared into the ceiling. "I should have just stayed in Suna." She pressed against her abdomen in an attempt to stay the bleeding but she knew otherwise.

Shikamaru felt a knot form in his throat. He wanted to cry and spill blood all at the same time. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to scream and he wanted to marry her.

"Temari, I—"

Ino ran in, Tsunade in tow. "The guards heard voices and footsteps—there was a suspicious figure outside and—" She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the two on the floor, Temari's blood beginning to pool beneath her. She raised her lit candle to bathe the room in its yellow light.

"Dear god," she whispered. She seemed about ready to faint, steadying herself with the help of Chouji, who appeared behind her and gripped her shoulder with a large hand.

Tsunade trembled at the threshold of the room, knuckles turning white as she gripped the doorframe. Guards hovered behind her, eager to get in and assess the damage but unable to move past the frozen physician.

Finally, as if snapped from a dream, Tsunade turned her eyes to Shikamaru.

"Get out," she told him.

He didn't listen. Because Temari's breathing was beginning to slow and her eyes were starting to close, and if he had to lose her, he'd be there to watch the whole thing so he could forever remember his failure, so he could make the man pay.

"Get out," Tsunade raised her voice.

Again, he didn't move.

Suddenly, he felt the floor meet him as he was lifted into the air and thrown aside.

"Get out," she said again, this time as she leaned over the dying princess. "And find him."

Shikamaru listened.

* * *

**AN:** I'm a terrible human being and deserve to be thrown into the pits of hell but I'm so very, very sorry this chapter is so late. I was sidetracked by Japan in all ts glory (and awfulness, really) and was concentrating on school, partying, and more school. After a brutal four months, I'm two weeks away from leaving Japan and now that everything is drawing to a close, found the inspiration to come back to this chapter and write.

The reason it took me so long was because I was blocked. I could not get the necessary words out. This chapter gave me the hardest trouble I have ever encountered. The scenes did not go right, I didn't know how to get from one point to another, I was unsure of where I was going, I was just blah. I didn't want to write an action scene and I didn't want to make it over dramatic (because this story was never meant to be dramatic or angsty or anything at all with the sad-it developed all on its own). So if this doesn't seem to fit or it just doesn't read well-for that I must apologize. I am still unsatisfied with the way this turned out but I just needed to get it out here, away from me. I've spent months-_months_-writing and rewriting this chapter and I can no longer continue doing so, so here you are.

Again, I apologize.

The next update will probably be when I'm back home in New York. Until then, see you next time.

And, as always, please review.


	16. In Which the Princess Awakes

**Chapter XVI**_  
In Which the Princess Awakes_

Temari, in the little she could register, felt as if she'd been wrapped in a blanket and thrown into a deep pool of frigid water, sounds too difficult to decipher and shadows too difficult to discern. She tried to blink away the darkness and clear away the fog in her mind and eyes but it seemed impossible. All she could do was lay there like a stone, unable to move and unable to speak.

She could remember very little. The events that led up to this odd stuck-in-her-body experience were fuzzy and out of reach. Every time she tried (very desperately) to recall what had happened to land her in her paralyzed state, the memories seemed to slip through her mental-fingers and leave her in the dark. She remembered a vaguely painful ache in her stomach, the slickness of dark liquid staining her hands, the low timber of a voice she wished to hear. She remembered running through desert and forest, remembered the feeling of desperation spreading across her body like a fire, urging her to continue moving even as exhaustion threatened to overtake her.

Why was this so important? Temari wanted to ask someone—anyone—to tell her. Most of all, she wanted to hear that voice reassuring her that everything was okay, even as she sunk deeper into the depths of the dark pool.

It felt like she laid there for hours in dark silence before there was a loud sound that Temari pretended she could make out: "She moved!"

The shadows were beginning to take shape: she could identify a red-pink blob that bobbed around her; two blonde things bustled beside her; she felt pinpricks in her arms and someone holding her hand every so often. Finally, she could put features in the faces and names a short while later.

"You're awake," Ino announced, relieved. She looked worn with a pale face and dark circles beneath her eyes, but there was no hesitation as she moved about Temari's bed holding tubes full of red liquid.

"Don't try to speak," warned a pink-haired girl with a large forehead. The girl looked towards Tsunade, who was busy scribbling away a clipboard, a line forming between her eyebrows. "You're still very weak."

And suddenly, Temari remembered everything. The running from Suna to Konoha, the dark night, Shikamaru's room, the chance to kiss him, Sasuke, and then the excruciating pain as a blade carved through her stomach and left a gaping hole. She remembered the desperation that filled Shikamaru's eyes and the feeling that spread through her body as she realized, although quite belatedly, that she might die. And the relief that at least Shikamaru would be okay if only a little scarred.

Where was he? There was a sudden desire in her to find him, to see him, to hear him sigh at the realization that he wouldn't be able to get rid of her. She wanted to tease him and kiss him and, most frighteningly of all, marry him. It made her insides squirm—although, to be fair, it could have been the medicine she was sure was working through her system—with the knowledge that she was so close to accepting her fate and marrying him but there it was. An undeniable truth that made her struggle to sit up, only to be restrained by the pink-haired girl pushing down gently on her shoulder.

"You're still weak," she repeated a little louder this time.

As always, it took only a set of directions to rile her up. Temari coughed and gripped the all-too-familiar bed sheets beneath her in pain—not that anyone else could see that. "Who is she?" she demanded, looking at Ino.

Ino smiled wearily. "This is Sakura, Tsunade's assistant."

It felt to Temari that there was a hedgehog lodged in her throat (or, at the very least, a very large pinecone, which Temari figured was basically the same thing) and the sounds she made as she tried to communicate were akin to that of a dying giraffe (not that she knew what a dying giraffe sounded like; she could only presume). Still, she enjoyed the now uncomfortable silence that filled her bedroom and the way Sakura shifted under her scrutiny. It only meant that Temari still had it, despite looking like death and feeling like it. "So what're you doing here?"

The smile struggled to stay in place. "Helping you, you ungrateful—"

Tsunade slammed the clipboard just in time. "That's enough, Ino. You know she's had a rough three days."

It took a moment for the words to register as she was still having a hard time hearing. "Three days?"

"He got you good," Sakura said softly, pulling down the covers and lifting her nightgown to show her the wrap that covered most of her stomach and the faint red stain that had soiled through. "Even now, it still manages to open and bleed—you've lost a lot of blood."

"It's a miracle you're alive," Tsunade offered, looking her straight in the eye. "I thought I told you not to get into any trouble after the wrist accident."

"Sorry," Temari grumbled darkly. "It wasn't part of the plan to get stabbed."

"Oh," Tsunade began, nearing her to inspect the dressed wound, "it was more than a stab. We don't get a lot of hexing and curses around here since Orochimaru left these parts with a litter of little boys but it was more than a stab. It took quite a bit to keep you from dying on us."

Temari stared between them. She swallowed, seeing as the hedgehog had turned itself into a thousand needles dripping with poison. "I see."

And then it came. The question that was burning her tongue and struggling to spew from her lips. The question to kill all questions. The question that would have Ino teasing her for the rest of her life.

"Where's Shikamaru?"

The question that would make all three women attending to her look away, a silence overtaking the room that told Temari something was not the way it should be.

"Where is he?" The needles had fully lodged themselves in her throat and she could feel the poison beginning the spread through her body. There now was a fully-grown tumor that made speaking nearly impossible and a terrible stinging in her eyes that probably meant the poison was causing a reaction there.

Ino took her hand and gripped it tighter when she attempted to shake it away. "We're not… sure. He left three days ago. No one's heard from him."

"Where did he go?"

"He left with a few of the other men," Sakura offered gently. Tsunade took the moment to head towards the windows and escape the conversation. "They're looking for Sasuke."

"Three days?"

"He'll be fine," Ino said confidently. "Chouji went, too. Shikamaru is perfectly safe. He's such a smart—"

As always, something interrupted the well-meaning reassurance that would have helped ease Temari back into a dreamless sleep. The doors burst open and in came a messenger, panic in his eyes.

"Prince Shikamaru has returned. Tsunade, you're needed. It isn't good."

Few words could mobilize anyone so quickly. In a moment, Tsunade had swept out of the room, leaving behind a slack jawed Ino and pale Sakura in her wake.

"Chouji." The whisper left Ino's lips as she picked up her skirts in her wiry hands and ran out of the room, not bothering to excuse herself. Sakura followed soon after, a worried name spilling from her lips, leaving Temari alone in a too-large room and tears pooling in her eyes.

Because that's what they were. Tears. And she could lie to herself all she wanted and she could pretend there was a small animal residing in her body and pulling at her heartstrings, but she cared. Even if it was only a tiny little bit (which was all she allowed herself to admit).

It was enough to will herself to lift her head, and then her back, and then every following body part to get out of that bed and head out that door to find Shikamaru.

And yell at him for being an idiot.

It hurt to walk. Frankly, it hurt to breathe and be alive, but it had to be done. Temari walked through the hallways, completely invisible to the servants as they rushed around carrying wet towels and pans of warm water and tools that Tsunade no doubt needed to rescue the prince and anyone else who had gone with him. She picked up the pace when she saw more servants rush from a separate wing with bloodstained towels and expressions that did not bode well for her stomach.

She turned the corner only to stop mid-step at the sight of Shikamaru, sitting with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

Something very hard to explain happened. Everything she was feeling lifted away and floated upwards, leaving her in a state of utter peace. Her heart stopped hammering and although her stomach felt as if it were on fire, the worry had dropped away at the sight of the spiky, matted black hair and the dirt and blood on Shikamaru's face.

Temari neared him slowly, careful to not make a sound. He didn't notice her as she sat across from him, clenching her lip with her teeth at the pain in her abdomen.

Tears spilled freely from his eyes. He seemed unhindered by what others thought of him or the image he presented. She envied him greatly at his ability to be vulnerable—but it also made her hate him. He was weak when he should be strong.

"What're you doing?"

He stopped mid-sob to look up at her. Surprise flitted across his features before he managed to look away. "It's all my fault."

"Who's inside?"

"Chouji."

She could now see the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. She could see the guilt, the anger, the fear written in his eyes and across his body as everything seemed to crash and burn around him. She could see that he was still a boy and that he was so close to losing his father and his best friend and whatever it was she was to him. He was the prince to a kingdom that had the potential to breaking apart if he let his weakness bubble to the surface and here he was, letting her see this.

"Stop crying about it," she said, because it was the only thing she could say and the only thing she knew how to say. "It isn't your fault."

He grew angrier, the tears slowing and his eyes hardening. "It is."

"No, it isn't."

He glared at her through the stray hairs that had fallen out of his ponytail. "You almost died and now Chouji is in there and he's probably dead."

"I almost died but I didn't and Chouji will be fine."

"Why are you here?" he asked.

It felt oddly like deja-vu. Temari knew she'd had the conversation before quite recently, but the moment was unclear in her memory due to the pain that came from her stomach.

"Because you're an idiot," she answered. "You're being self-deprecating enough so maybe you don't really need me here." She stood to go.

"No, Temari. Why are you _really_ here?" He met her eyes and did not blink as he waited for her answer.

Her heart had caught the fire from her stomach, which was why she turned to face him and why her eyes were a lot moister than they usually were. "Because you are an idiot. Because if I had died you would have put an entire kingdom in jeopardy. Because if Chouji dies, you will forever hold yourself as the one who caused it when he willingly went with you knowing what could happen to him and never holding you accountable. Because you are a prince who needs to grow up and realize that bad things happen and there is nothing you can do to stop it except soldier your responsibility and be the best king you can be because you _are_ the best king there could be."

"And because you love me," he supplied.

"I'll marry you," she conceded. "I'm only saying this because there is a gaping, bleeding hole in my chest—"

"Stomach," he corrected.

"—And I've bled out most of my blood—"

"That is usually what happens when you bleed."

"—And not because I have any sort of feelings for you. I'm just soldiering my own responsibility for my kingdom and doing what I need to do."

His face broke into a smile. "I'm so glad you're alright." His voice sounded so honest it nearly broke her heart.

The door they were near opened and revealed Tsunade wiping her bloodied hands with a white sheet. She took one look at Shikamaru and said, "He's stable," before walking away into the next room and patient that needed her attention.

Temari somehow managed to stand and edge closer to him. He buried his face in his hands again, not bothering to hide the fact he was crying.

She sat beside him in silence, giving Shikamaru the company he needed. And when he reached for her hand, fitting his fingers through the spaces of her own, Temari was perfectly okay with that.

* * *

**AN:** To those of you waiting for updates for _When We Met, _I'm sorry to say that I'm going to try and finish this story before continuing with that one. Bouncing from one end of the spectrum (medieval prince and princess story) to another (modern-day backpacking through Japan) is actually a lot more than I can handle in developing a story, so I want to concentrate and give each one the attention and dedication it deserves. Hopefully, you guys can review this chapter and continue reading this story and look forward to the next update to this. I feel like there are only two more chapters in store for this story and those will be released very soon. As always, thanks for reading.


	17. In Which the Prince Screws Up

**Chapter XVII_  
In Which the Prince Screws Up (Again)_**

In the mayhem that followed his failed attempt to find and kill Sasuke, Shikamaru hadn't seen his intended in over four days. Every time he tried to go to her room, catch her eating, catch her sleeping, catch her brushing up on princess lessons with Ino, or even tried to corner her in a closet, something came up. He was starting to think it was a conspiracy set up by his mother.

The reality was different, however. Temari had been moved into a different room for recovery. Apparently, the whole walking-around-when-she-was-trying-to-find-him wasn't allowed and had jeopardized her recovery, her wound deciding to rip open again and send her into yet another near-death situation. He heard details through the grapevine, also known as Ino, and she refused to reveal Temari's whereabouts even when he used his princely title and ordered her to.

So he sat in his room, mulling over his guilty conscious. He'd had so much time on his hands, having been forbidden to see both Temari and Chouji that he'd reorganized the library that took up most of the east wall. Twice. And now all he had left to do was to stare at the _go_ board that was still set up from the unfinished game he had been playing with his father before the King had taken ill. He wondered whether Temari would ever play with him. He was sure she knew how. It was a strategy game, used by older generations as a mock battlefield. If anyone knew how to play, it would be her.

He wanted nothing more than to see Temari. He wanted to assure himself that she was alive and well. And while it had killed him when he first watched her go with her brothers, he knew he would do it once more if it meant that she would be safe and sound.

The door to his room creaked open. He didn't bother to look back. It was probably one of the servants. He hadn't seen the outside of his bedroom for the past two days, couped up with only misery as a companion. The servant had probably taken orders from his mother to clean his room, even though from where he was sitting, it looked perfectly in order.

"You're not even going to look at me?"

He knew that voice. He was almost positive it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he spared his doorway a glance just to test it. What he saw were teal eyes that regarded him with disdain and a raised eyebrow. His heart leaped at the sight.

"You."

"'You?'" Temari repeated, moving slowly. She was dressed modestly, the outline of the bandages around her midriff plainly visible through the pale purple silk of her dress. And yet she still looked beautiful. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

"You don't see me for days and all you have to say is 'you'? I could have been dead for all you knew."

"But you're not." He leaned back against his headrest, taking a deep breath. He willed himself to look away, to roll his eyes to the ceiling, but his eyes remained on Temari.

She rolled her eyes for him. With her blonde hair tied away from her face, he could see the beads of sweat that formed at her temples, the strain of being upright visible in the vein that stood out of her neck.

"Stop staring at me," she snapped, moving further into the room. She leaned against his bedpost, her knuckles turning white. "I may be betrothed to you, but that gives you no right to eye me like a piece of meat."

He couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the corner of his lips. "Don't flatter yourself."

Temari hummed in approval. But then she took a sharp breath, hand drifting to her stomach.

He stood, careful to keep his distance. She eyed him warily, brows knit together as he took one step closer to her.

"Don't you come any closer to me. I know what you're thinking."

He took another step keeping his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers.

She held up the hand at her stomach, keeping him at bay. "I want to remain pure for our wedding," she said. He couldn't miss the mocking lilt in her voice.

He motioned to the chair near her. "You should sit."

"I'm hurt, not crippled."

It took only two strides for him to reach her. She made no move to get away from him. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, drying it on her skirt. She was paler up close, the color drained from her cheeks, dark circles ringing her eyes, making her appear more like her youngest brother in a comparison he never thought he would make.

She looked so weak.

But this was not weakness. As she struggled to remain standing, throwing him a grin of ferocity for good measure, he knew that what he saw before him was not weakness. What he saw was the strongest, most frightening woman he knew. A woman that had willingly returned to him to fight a battle she may not have won. A woman that stood before her future husband, injured and bruised and worse for wear, and stood proudly. A woman that could probably take any normal man down, a woman that was stronger than any individual he knew, a woman smarter than even Ino and Sakura, and perhaps his own mother. A woman that despite all her flaws was the closest thing to perfection he had ever encountered.

She licked her lips and sucked her teeth at him. "What are you staring at me for?"

He took her hand and began to pull her towards his door. "Come on, troublesome woman. You're going to rest."

He could hear her ready herself for a retort; he felt the resistance in her arm as she tried to pull away from his grip. But a moment later he felt the fight drain from her bones. He chanced a glance back only to catch her smirking at him.

"Oh, you are _so_ in lo—"

He pulled her a little harder than he should have, making her swallow her words. "Save your energy."

They went down the hall, hand in hand, ignoring the incredulous looks of the servants. He deposited her safely back in her room and, as she stood at the door and leaned against the frame, had to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand to will himself from closing the distance between them to kiss her soundly upon her lips. There would be more moments for that.

* * *

"WAKE UP!"

Shikamaru startled out of his sleep, hand automatically grabbing at the wrist of the person who hovered above him in his bed. Still bleary from sleep, all he could make out was a mass of golden hair and bright blue eyes.

"It is not my fault you don't know how to wake up at decent hours of the morning, Shika."

Using his free hand, Shikamaru rubbed his eyes and opened them to see Ino bent over him, a row of servants and Chouji in assembly behind her.

"Pardon our intrusion, Your Highness," one of the servants squeaked, bowing her head deeply. The others followed. Chouji shrugged and pointed at Ino. Ino just pulled at her hand and glared down at him.

"Come on, Shikamaru. Today's the big day!"

He shook his head. He had no idea what she was going on about so early in the morning. He could hear the birds chirping outside his window, gleefully bringing in the new day. And if they were still bringing in the new day, then it was much too early for him to be up. He needed the sun to be at least halfway through the sky before he could turn on his ability to function.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, peering up at Ino.

Chouji shifted uncomfortably and took a step forward. One of the servants beside him lifted an outfit of black and green that Shikamaru had never seen before. Well, he remembered seeing something like that sketched on paper for the wedding—

He shot out of bed, ignoring the gasps of the female servants as they regarded his naked torso. Ino had no qualms about gazing at the future king of Konoha shirtless, however, and simply nodded at him, exasperated.

"Realized what day it is, have you?"

Shikamaru ignored her, striding up to Chouji and giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Good to see you," he said genuinely, hugging his friend close, before running out of his room and down the hallways to find Temari.

He burst into her room, finding her draped in a long silk robe that threatened to fall from her shoulders and pool at her feet. The maid with her shrieked and rushed out of the room but Temari simply glared at him.

"Couldn't you wait a few hours?"

He heard others filter into the room. He heard Ino say, "Oh, for the love of all that's holy. This is completely against the rules." There was the clang of a sword falling from a knight's hand and Chouji's voice, "Let's go, Sir Ikura. She'll be a married woman soon and Shikamaru may have to behead you." More footsteps, and then an indignant, "Every time I've caught you with my sister, you've been in a compromising position. I think I'm going to kill you." But Shikamaru cared neither for rules nor Sir Ikura nor his untimely death at the hands of Temari's brother, Kankurou.

"Are we really going to do this?"

"By 'this,'" Temari began, shifting her robe to hide her shoulders and retying the knot at her waist, "I hope you mean get married."

He nodded.

"I should hope so. It's what your mother has been training me for since the day I got here."

"You hate me."

She licked her lips. "Don't you hate me, too?"

He shook his head. "You know I don't."

"You know I don't, either."

Shikamaru felt a surge of happiness filter through him. There were things he had to worry about, like catching Sasuke, his father's impending death, or the looming day he would be crowned king. But at that precise moment, he felt as if nothing could possibly ruin that perfect moment.

"It's funny," Ino said, as Shikamaru and Temari regarded each other intensely, "that you ended up falling in love when you were pretending to do so from the beginning."

Shikamaru was going to kill her.

Temari's smile slipped off her face. Shikamaru was sure that he heard Kankurou sputter unintelligently. Another maid gasped and proceeded to faint. Chouji said, "This is not good."

Both of Temari's eyebrows had shot up. "You _lied_ to me?"

He rolled his eyes. "As if you weren't trying to get out of the situation."

Temari laughed bitterly. "I wasn't _lying_ about it."

Ino rushed forward, taking Shikamaru's arm. "Temari, Shika just didn't know what to do, so he pretended to fall in love with you but now—"

Shikamaru shook her away and muttered, "You're not helping."

"So you were pretending to like me," Temari said, stepping away from him. "Are you sure you're not pretending now?"

"That's it; I'll kill him."

"Temari, he was just trying to get out of marrying you!"

"I think we have about three fainted servants over here."

Shikamaru grumbled darkly, "May I remind you that you were just as eager not to marry me just a few months ago?"

"I didn't pretend to _fall in love with you_."

"I'm not pretending anymore!"

"How convenient."

"The king is dying."

Everything stopped. Temari was frozen, her mouth open, her hands clutching the knot of her robe. Shikamaru felt as if the world around him had slowed, the beats of his heart resounding in his ears, his stomach churning at the thought of his father. He willed himself to turn around, Sir Choza Akimichi, Chouji's father and part of the King's counsel, standing at the entrance of Temari's room.

"You should go and see him," Sir Choza commanded.

Shikamaru needed no further prompting. He swept out of the room, the others on his heels. He felt someone drop a robe on his shoulders and he pulled it tight across his chest. Out of their own accord, his hands formed a circle as his mind raced through various situations and possibilities. Was he poisoned? Did someone hurt him? Or had the disease finally caught up to him?

Entering the King's chamber, he saw his mother standing over the bed, gripping the King's wrinkled hand. The Queen turned when Shikamaru was halfway across the room, her face stony.

"Is he-?"

"Not yet."

He didn't know why he expected his mother to cry, or why he was upset that she wasn't shedding a tear. But he said nothing as he took a stand beside her, looking over his father.

Small, pale, and weak, Shikamaru's hero lay wasting away. Tsunade was a few feet away, head bent in defeat, hands clasped behind her back.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked her.

"It's too late, Your Highness," Tsunade answered. Her voice was soft and so unlike her own.

Shikamaru ground his teeth angrily. "Do something."

"Son," a voice croaked.

He looked down to his father. The King's eyes were open, and instead of his bright, intelligent eyes, what Shikamaru saw were blue eyes taken over by blindness.

"Sometimes, you have to know when to forfeit."

And he took a last, shuddering breath before his eyes closed.

His mother swayed, guards running forth to hold her and help her into the chair beside the bed. Servants wailed; knights removed their helmets and knelt on their knees. Ino sobbed into Chouji's shoulder; and Kankurou bent his head in acknowledgement.

"I'll marry you!" Temari shouted, running across the room. She stopped before Shikamaru. "I'll marry you. Right now."

His father was dead. Temari was agreeing to marry him. He wasn't sure whether to cry or laugh or do both at the same time. He felt a knot form in his throat that didn't disappear when he swallowed.

He felt hands travel along his arm, clutching his shoulder. Breath tickled his ear as Temari whispered, "Do not cry. You are the King now. Your servants cannot see weakness."

"Excellent!"

His father sat up in bed, fingers removing something from his now-black eyes. His mother laughed heartily, leaning in to catch her husband's hands. Everyone else looked positively horrified, and yet another three servants fainted to the ground.

"Now that that's settled, let's get this wedding started."

"Pops?"

"_Your Majesty_, to you," the Queen corrected.

He looked around, bewildered. Ino was gripping Chouji's arm so tightly that Chouji was having a difficult time not yelling. Kankurou stared between the prince and his father, seemingly perplexed. Knights, servants, and guards alike were staring astounded at the scene before them.

Tsunade, on the other hand, looked perfectly pleased. Sir Choza grinned. Sir Inoichi swung his long, blonde ponytail over his shoulder in triumph as he gave Tsunade a strong handshake.

Temari clung to Shikamaru's shoulder, muttering, "You've got to be kidding."

"It took a little longer than we anticipated, really," King Shikaku said, stretching his arms over his shoulders. Color was returning to his cheeks, flooding the rest of his body a dark caramel color that had been lost in Shikamaru. "My condolences to you and your brothers, Princess Temari," he said, greeting the blonde princess.

"I don't mean to be rude," the princess began, and before Shikamaru could stop her (not that he could, really, because he was actually paralyzed by the events that had just transpired) she was walking up to the King and Queen. "But what exactly is going on here?"

The Queen bowed her head and moved aside, taking a seat beside her husband on the bed. The King looked healthier than ever now, and he sat straight against the headboard.

"Prince Shikamaru, the last few years have been wasted trying to teach you about the kingdom you are to inherit. In an effort to inspire more motivation in you, the Queen suggested we start finding you a wife. Our relations with Suna have been tenuous, but as our kingdoms are the strongest on this side of the West, we knew it would be in our best interest to bolster those relations. For years, we planned your betrothal, but both of you were unwilling."

"For good reason," Temari muttered.

"I was sixteen," Shikamaru mumbled under his breath.

The King ignored them. "The last time we suggested this union to you, Prince Shikamaru, you were eager in your refusal. Finally, my most trusted counsel members and the Queen advised me that your attitude would not change. So I took matters into my own hands, and by the Queen's suggestion, decided that you would require a rude wake-up call."

"So you pretended you were _dying_?" Shikamaru could have started yelling, but that required effort. And his heart was still trying to catch up and pump enough blood to support his standing position. Ino, however, had given up, and had made herself comfortable on the ground.

"We planned for a quick wedding. However, things didn't necessarily turn out the way we planned, and the plots to overthrow both Suna and Konoha sidetracked our original intentions."

"But since you both want to get married now, it doesn't matter," the Queen interjected.

"Now, listen here, Mom—"

"This is an outrage!" Her brother, who had crossed the room easily and now held his sister by the waist, kept Temari rooted to her spot.

"Ino, help the Princess with her dress. Chouji, help Shikamaru ready himself." The orders came from Sir Inoichi. Sir Choza punched him lazily in the shoulder.

"All for a wedding," Shikamaru grumbled, stuffing his hands into his robe pockets. He stalked out of the room, Chouji at his side, a wedding to be had.

* * *

**AN:** I suck. I got sidetracked in Japan by life. And then I got sidetracked by my senior year. Now I'm taking a break from trying to graduate to pump out this chapter. I deserve no remorse. You are free to flail me.

One more chapter. I make no promises as to when it will go up.


	18. In Which the Princess and Prince

Chapter XVIII  
_In Which the Princess and the Prince Are Married_

Konohanese weddings were extravagant, and even more so for the royal family. In comparison, Sunan weddings were quiet, private affairs, where only the friends and family of the couple were allowed to attend. So naturally, the entire kingdom had been invited on Shikamaru's side, and only three people came on Temari's behalf.

Sunan women never wore white for their weddings—white was reserved for the priestesses, for the purest of heart, for women destined for bigger things than men and keeping house. A Sunan bride wore a simple gown of cotton the color of the same sand the Sunan people rose out of. For the princess, the dress was to trail many feet behind her, to gather the dust of her people, a reminder of her duty.

Temari stared at her reflection in the mirror. The most famous, if not reclusive, designer of all Suna had made her dress. It fit her like a second skin, hugging her curves and trailing at her feet. The Queen had allowed Temari to keep some of her traditions and let the dress be the color of sand, but the silk still felt foreign against her skin, and she ran her fingers over it in wonder. The designer stepped away, having finished sewing Temari in, and grinned an almost-toothless grin.

Her brothers nodded in approval, Baki shrugging in disinterest. Ino stood by with her mouth hanging open.

"You look _beautiful_," Ino breathed.

"I know," Temari responded; but the words sounded a little uneasy even to her own ears.

Temari glanced back to the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed in gold—the color of the sun—and her curls had been pinned to the top of her head. Now that the dress was finished and there were no clasps or strings to pull, Temari was curious.

"Lady Chiyo," Temari began, turning to the designer, "how am I supposed to get out of this?"

Chiyo cocked her head to the side. "Your husband is supposed to rip you out of it."

Ino coughed, "Oh my!" just as Kankurou's face darkened and Gaara's eyes became glassy.

"That's interesting," Temari remarked thoughtfully.

Kankurou coughed, sending Lady Chiyo a glare that wasn't lost to the rest of those gathered in Temari's chamber. "I suppose that's the way things ought to be." He looked back at his sister. "Wait, are you sure you want to get married to him? He's puny. Chances are he won't even _know_ how to rip the thing off you. We'll get you a proper Sunan man, right Gaara?"

Gaara turned away and looked out the window. "There are a lot of trees here."

Baki laughed. Kankurou glowered some more. Ino looked ready to faint.

Temari took a deep breath. Any moment now, she would be walking down the carpeted halls of the palace. Shikamaru would be waiting for her, his hands behind his back, watching her as she glided to him. She felt a nauseating bubbling in her stomach, moths fluttering around her rib cage. She needed a drink.

"Is it time yet?" she asked Ino.

Ino shook her head. "We'll know when they are ready."

"Sister."

Gaara stood beside her, Kankurou at his side, both their hands clasped behind them, as if hiding something.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What is it?"

Two identical woven bags sat in the palms of their cupped hands. Gaara placed his in her hands first, closing her fingers around it.

"This is Suna's gift to its only princess," he said solemnly.

She closed her eyes and touched the tips of her two fingers against her forehead in gratitude. Then, taking the bag, she opened it carefully to see the insignia of the Sunan royal family, a jagged hourglass, carved into a piece of lacquered wood. She recognized the item as one of the oldest relics of the family, kept safe in the vaults underneath the castle of Suna.

"This," Kankurou said, taking a step forward to place his bag in her hands, "is our gift to our only sister."

Temari repeated the gesture of gratitude but let her hands trail down to her mouth, a sign of utmost respect. She pulled at the strings that tied the small pouch closed, shaking the content out into her awaiting hand.

It was also a small box made of lacquered wood. Her name was etched into the cover in the ancient handwriting of her people. Opening the top, a frozen still from when they were much younger, captured by a court magician that had died years ago, had been melted into the box.

"So you will remember us always," the two brothers spoke.

She felt a tingling in her nose as her eyes became blurry. She blinked it away and raised her eyes to meet those of her brothers—brown and ice blue and so unlike her own.

"When did you guys get so sentimental?"

Kankurou growled and turned away from her, stalking back to his seat. "See what I told you? She never appreciates it when I'm serious."

Baki shook his head. "She never learns. I thought the Queen was giving her princess lessons."

Gaara smiled faintly at her. "We wish you all the happiness in the world."

"Leave her be, Gaara. She's just a bully."

Temari walked up to Kankurou, hands at her hips. "Now, listen here, little brother—"

"I am twenty-two years old, thank you very much."

"Just because I'm not going to be home very much anymore doesn't mean you can go through my raid of makeup."

Kankurou quieted immediately, a hand touching his face and the purple markings he had drawn. "I don't use your makeup."

She turned to Gaara. If he had eyebrows, she was sure they would have been cocked expectantly, waiting for her to do her worst. "And you—make sure you eat every now and then. _And sleep_."

He scoffed. "I am not a child."

"Whatever." Finally, she turned to Baki, who regarded her coolly. "Make sure you keep these two in line."

He bowed at his orders. "I will do much better with them than I managed with you."

She laughed. "I expect nothing less."

There was a knock at the chamber door. Ino rushed to open it, making sure the person on the other side was not allowed a glimpse of the princess. The blonde turned to look at Temari and said, with a giant smile splitting her face, "It's time."

* * *

Bride and groom faced the King and Queen of Konoha, as well as the new King of Suna. The older King stood before them, an earthenware cup in his hand full of rice wine. He held it between the couple as the noble families of Konoha gathered around to watch the ceremony.

Shikamaru looked handsome. She'd never tell him that, because then his ego would grow astounding lengths and chances were he wouldn't even be able to get through the double-doors of their new bedroom. But she couldn't help steal glances, admire the way he looked with his hair pulled back and the clean-shaven outline of his jaw. Even in his dark green robes with his family crest stitched onto the back, he looked like a character of one of the cheesy romances Ino constantly read.

"This is the wine grown from the earth, made by man, and purified by the gods. It signifies your duties to each other and to your kingdom."

Shikamaru took the cup first, one hand holding the bottom, the other cupping the side without curling his fingers around it. He took one sip, turned the cup, took another sip, turned it once more, and took a final sip before placing it back in the outstretched hand of his father.

Temari took the cup carefully just as Ino had taught her. She took the first sip of commitment, then turned it to signify the years that would pass. She took the second sip of forgiveness, then turned it to signify the changes in life. Finally, she took her final sip of love, placing it back in her new father's hands, and bowed her head.

There was an uproar of applause and shrieks. Many of the attendants leaped to their feet, screaming wishes of longevity to the newlyweds. Shikamaru finally turned to look at her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to him.

"What're you doing?"

"This is the modern twist," he whispered, ignoring his mother's wide eyes and Gaara's death glare.

Temari curled her fingers around the nape of Shikamaru's neck, playing with the hairs that had escaped the hold of his ponytail.

He smirked at her, wrapped his arms tighter around her, and placed his forehead against hers. She felt his hot breath fan across her face, could smell the woods and forest and all the green of Konoha, could feel the heat of a thousand suns warm across her skin.

"So what're you going to do?" she asked him playfully.

"Finally kiss you."

He placed his lips on her lips and did just as he said.

It was a kiss that would be talked about for hundreds of years.

_Owari_

* * *

**AN**: That's the end! Please review! I just submitted my senior thesis and I thought what better way than to celebrate by posting the last chapter of a story I began when I first entered university? Hope you've enjoyed this long, long, long, long journey. I had a wonderful time writing it and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did! Thanks to your countless reviews and generous support, for your corrections, for your critique, for your boundless appreciation! Thank you, thank you, thank you!


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